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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


GIFT  OF 

Estate   of 


Jean  Howard  McDuff ie 


A  MIDSUMMER 
NIGHT'S   DREAM 


A  MIDSUMMER- 
NIGHT'S  DREAM 

BY  WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 
ARTHUR  RACKHAM .  R.W.S . 


NEW  YORK 
DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  CO 


Printed  in  England 


DRAMATIS  PERSONiE 


Theseus,  Duke  of  Athens. 
"Egkvs,  father  to  Hemtia. 

T^  \in  love  with  Hemtia. 

DemetriusJ 

Philostrate,  master  of  the  revels  to  Theseus, 

Quince,  a  carpenter. 

Snug,  ajoinet. 

Bottom,  a  weaver. 

Flute,  a  bellows-mender. 

Snout,  a  tinker. 

Starveling,  a  tailor. 

HiPPOLYTA,  queen  of  the  Amazons  betrothed  to  Theseus. 
Hermia,  daughter  to  Egeus,  in  love  with  Lysander. 
Helena,  in  love  with  Demetrius. 

Oberon,  king  of  the  fairies. 
Titania,  queen  of  the  fairies. 
Puck,  or  Robin  Goodfellow. 

PEASEBLOSSOM'i 


Cobweb 

Moth 

Mustardseed, 


■fairies. 


Other  fairies  attending  their  King  and  Queen. 
Attendants  on  Theseus  and  Hippolyta. 

Scene — Athens,  and  a  wood  near  it. 


<L 


NIGHTS 


Athens,      The  palace  o/T'ry.S'evs, 

^«/^r  Theseus,  Hippolyta,  Philostrate, 
and  Attendants. 


Theseus. 
Now,  fair  Hippolyta,  our  nuptial  hour 
Draws  on  apace  ;  four  happy  days  bring  in 
Another  moon  :  but,  O,  methinks,  how  slow 
This  old  moon  wanes !  she  lingers  my  desires, 
Like  to  a  step-dame  or  a  dowager 
Long  withering  out  a  young  man's  revenue. 


2        A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     act  i. 

HiPPOLYTA. 

Four  days  will  quickly  steep  themselves  in  night ; 
Four  nights  will  quickly  dream  away  the  time  ; 
And  then  the  moon,  like  to  a  silver  bow 
New-bent  in  heaven,  shall  behold  the  night 
Of  our  solemnities. 

Theseus. 
Go,  Philostrate, 
Stir  up  the  Athenian  youth  to  merriments  ; 
Awake  the  pert  and  nimble  spirit  of  mirth  : 
Turn  melancholy  forth  to  funerals ; 
The  pale  companion  is  not  for  our  pomp. 

\_Bxi^  Philostrate. 
Hippolyta,  I  woo'd  thee  with  my  sword, 
And  won  thy  love,  doing  thee  injuries  ; 
But  I  will  wed  thee  in  another  key, 
With  pomp,  with  triumph  and  with  revelling. 

Enter  Egeus,  Hermia,  Lysander,  and  Demetrius. 

Egeus. 
Happy  be  Theseus,  our  renowned  duke  ! 

Theseus. 
Thanks,  good  Egeus  :  what's  the  news  with  thee  .-* 

Egeus. 
Full  of  vexation  come  I,  with  complaint 
Against  my  child,  my  daughter  Hermia. 


sc.  I.       A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM 

Stand  forth,  Demetrius.     My  noble  lord, 

This  man  hath  my  consent  to  marry  her. 

Stand  forth,  Lysander  :  and,  my  gracious  duke, 

This  man  hath  bewitch'd  the  bosom  of  my  child  : 

Thou,  thou,  Lysander,  thou  hast  given  her  rhymes 

And  interchanged  love-tokens  with  my  child  : 

Thou  hast  by  moonlight  at  her  window  sung 

With  feigning  voice  verses  of  feigning  love, 

And  stolen  the  impression  of  her  fantasy 

With  bracelets  of  thy  hair,  rings,  gawds,  conceits, 

Knacks,  trifles,  nosegays,  sweetmeats,  messengers 

Of  strong  prevailment  in  unharden'd  youth  : 

With  cunning  hast  thou  filch'd  my  daughter's  heart, 

Turn'd  her  obedience,  which  is  due  to  me, 

To  stubborn  harshness :  and,  my  gracious  duke. 

Be  it  so  she  will  not  here  before  your  grace 

Consent  to  marry  with  Demetrius, 

I  beg  the  ancient  privilege  of  Athens, 

As  she  is  mine,  I  may  dispose  of  her  : 

Which  shall  be  either  to  this  gentleman 

Or  to  her  death,  according  to  our  law 

Immediately  provided  in  that  case. 

Theseus. 
What  say  you,  Hermia  ?  be  advised,  fair  maid  : 
To  you  your  father  should  be  as  a  god  ; 
One  that  composed  your  beauties,  yea,  and  one 
To  whom  you  are  but  as  a  form  in  wax 
By  him  imprinted  and  within  his  power 


4        A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM      act  i. 

To  leave  the  figure  or  disfigure  it. 
Demetrius  is  a  worthy  gentleman. 

Hermia. 
So  is  Lysander. 

Theseus. 

In  himself  he  is  ; 
But  in  this  kind,  wanting  your  father's  voice, 
The  other  must  be  held  the  worthier. 

Hermia. 
I  would  my  father  look'd  but  with  my  eyes. 

Theseus. 
Rather  your  eyes  must  with  his  judgement  look. 

Hermia. 
I  do  entreat  your  grace  to  pardon  me. 
I  know  not  by  what  power  I  am  made  bold, 
Nor  how  it  may  concern  my  modesty, 
In  such  a  presence  here  to  plead  my  thoughts ; 
But  I  beseech  your  grace  that  I  may  know 
The  worst  that  may  befall  me  in  this  case, 
If  I  refuse  to  wed  Demetrius. 

Theseus. 

Either  to  die  the  death  or  to  abjure 

For  ever  the  society  of  men. 

Therefore,  fair  Hermia,  question  your  desires  ; 

Know  of  your  youth,  examine  well  your  blood 


sc.  I,       A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM         5 

Whether,  if  you  yield  not  to  your  father's  choice, 

You  can  endure  the  livery  of  a  nun. 

For  aye  to  be  in  shady  cloister  mew'd, 

To  live  a  barren  sister  all  your  life, 

Chanting  faint  hymns  to  the  cold  fruitless  moon. 

Thrice-blessed  they  that  master  so  their  blood, 

To  undergo  such  maiden  pilgrimage  ; 

But  earthlier  happy  is  the  rose  distill'd, 

Than  that  which  withering  on  the  virgin  thorn 

Grows,  lives  and  dies  in  single  blessedness. 

Hermia. 
So  will  I  grow,  so  live,  so  die,  my  lord, 
Ere  I  will  yield  my  virgin  patent  up 
Unto  his  lordship,  whose  unwished  yoke 
My  soul  consents  not  to  give  sovereignty. 

Theseus. 
Take  time  to  pause ;  and,  by  the  next  new  moon — 
The  sealing-day  betwixt  my  love  and  me, 
For  everlasting  bond  of  fellowship — 
Upon  that  day  either  prepare  to  die 
For  disobedience  to  your  father's  will. 
Or  else  to  wed  Demetrius,  as  he  would ; 
Or  on  Diana's  altar  to  protest 
For  aye  austerity  and  single  life. 

Demetrius. 
Relent,  sweet  Hermia:  and,  Lysander,  yield 
Thy  crazed  title  to  my  certain  right. 


6        A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM      act  i. 

Lysander. 
You  have  her  father's  love,  Demetrius ; 
Let  me  have  Hermia's  :  do  you  marry  him. 

Egeus. 
Scornful  Lysander  !  true,  he  hath  my  love. 
And  what  is  mine  my  love  shall  render  him. 
And  she  is  mine,  and  all  my  right  of  her 
I  do  estate  unto  Demetrius. 

Lysander. 
I  am,  my  lord,  as  well  derived  as  he, 
As  well  possess'd  ;  my  love  is  more  than  his  ; 
My  fortunes  every  way  as  fairly  rank'd, 
If  not  with  vantage,  as  Demetrius' ; 
And,  which  is  more  than  all  these  boasts  can  be^ 
I  am  beloved  of  beauteous  Hermia  : 
Why  should  not  I  then  prosecute  my  right  ? 
Demetrius,  I'll  avouch  it  to  his  head, 
Made  love  to  Nedar's  daughter,  Helena, 
And  won  her  soul ;  and  she,  sweet  lady,  dotes, 
Devoutly  dotes,  dotes  in  idolatry. 
Upon  this  spotted  and  inconstant  man. 

Theseus. 
I  must  confess  that  I  have  heard  so  much, 
And  with  Demetrius  thought  to  have  spoke  thereof 
But,  being  over-full  of  self-affairs, 
My  mind  did  lose  it.     But,  Demetrius,  come ; 


sc.  I.       A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM        7 

And  come,  Egeus  ;  you  shall  go  with  me, 
I  have  some  private  schooling  for  you  both. 
For  you,  fair  Hermia,  look  you  arm  yourself 
To  fit  your  fancies  to  your  father's  will ; 
Or  else  the  law  of  Athens  yields  you  up — 
Which  by  no  means  we  may  extenuate — 
To  death,  or  to  a  vow  of  single  life. 
Come,  my  Hippolyta :  what  cheer,  my  love? 
Demetrius  and  Egeus,  go  along  : 
I  must  employ  you  in  some  business 
Against  our  nuptial  and  confer  with  you 
Of  something  nearly  that  concerns  yourselves. 

Egeus. 
With  duty  and  desire  we  follow  you. 

[^Exeunt  all  but  Lysander  and  Hermia. 

Lysander. 
How  now,  my  love  !  why  is  your  cheek  so  pale  ? 
How  chance  the  roses  there  do  fade  so  fast  .•* 

Hermia. 
Belike  for  want  of  rain,  which  I  could  well 
Beteem  them  from  the  tempest  of  my  eyes. 

Lysander. 
Ay  me !  for  aught  that  I  could  ever  read. 
Could  ever  hear  by  tale  or  history, 
The  course  of  true  love  never  did  run  smooth  ; 
But,  either  it  was  different  in  blood, — 


8        A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM      act  i. 

Hermia. 
O  cross  !  too  high  to  be  enthrall'd  to  low. 

Lysander. 
Or  else  misgraffed  in  respect  of  years, — 

Hermia. 
O  spite  !  too  old  to  be  engaged  to  young. 

Lysander. 
Or  else  it  stood  upon  the  choice  of  friends, — 

Hermia. 
O  hell  I  to  choose  love  by  another's  eyes. 

Lysander. 
Or,  if  there  were  a  sympathy  in  choice, 
War,  death,  or  sickness  did  lay  siege  to  it, 
Making  it  momentary  as  a  sound, 
Swift  as  a  shadow,  short  as  any  dream  ; 
Brief  as  the  lightning  in  the  collied  night. 
That,  in  a  spleen,  unfolds  both  heaven  and  earth, 
And  ere  a  man  hath  power  to  say  *  Behold ! 
The  jaws  of  darkness  do  devour  it  up  : 
So  quick  bright  things  come  to  confusion. 

Hermia. 
If  then  true  lovers  have  been  ever  cross'd, 
It  stands  as  an  edict  in  destiny  : 
Then  let  us  teach  our  trial  patience. 


sc.  I.       A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM        9 

Because  it  is  a  customary  cross, 

As  due  to  love  as  thoughts  and  dreams  and  sighs, 

Wishes  and  tears,  poor  fancy's  followers. 

Lysander. 
A  good  persuasion  :  therefore,  hear  me,  Hermia. 
I  have  a  widow  aunt,  a  dowager 
Of  great  revenue,  and  she  hath  no  child : 
From  Athens  is  her  house  remote  seven  leagues ; 
And  she  respects  me  as  her  only  son. 
There,  gentle  Hermia,  may  I  marry  thee ; 
And  to  that  place  the  sharp  Athenian  law 
Cannot  pursue  us.     If  thou  lovest  me  then, 
Steal  forth  thy  father's  house  to-morrow  night; 
And  in  the  wood,  a  league  without  the  town, 
Where  I  did  meet  thee  once  with  Helena, 
To  do  observance  to  a  morn  of  May, 
There  will  I  stay  for  thee. 

Hermia. 

My  good  Lysander 
I  swear  to  thee,  by  Cupid's  strongest  bow, 
By  his  best  arrow  with  the  golden  head, 
By  the  simplicity  of  Venus'  doves, 
By  that  which  knitteth  souls  and  prospers  loves, 
And  by  that  fire  which  burn'd  the  Carthage  queen, 
When  the  false  Troyan  under  sail  was  seen, 
By  all  the  vows  that  ever  men  have  broke. 
In  number  more  than  ever  women  spoke, 


lo      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM      act  i. 

In  that  same  place  thou  hast  appointed  me, 
To-morrow  truly  will  I  meet  with  thee. 

Lysander. 
Keep  promise,  love.     Look,  here  comes  Helena. 

Enter  Helena. 

Hermia. 
God  speed  fair  Helena !  whither  away  } 

Helena. 
Call  you  me  fair  .«*  that  fair  again  unsay. 
Demetrius  loves  your  fair :  O  happy  fair ! 
Your  eyes  are  lode-stars  ;  and  your  tongue's  sweet  air 
More  tuneable  than  lark  to  shepherd's  ear, 
When  wheat  is  green,  when  hawthorn  buds  appear. 
Sickness  is  catching  :  O,  were  favour  so. 
Yours  would  I  catch,  fair  Hermia,  ere  I  go ; 
My  ear  should  catch  your  voice,  my  eye  your  eye, 
My  tongue  should  catch  your  tongue's  sweet  melody. 
Were  the  world  mine,  Demetrius  being  bated. 
The  rest  I'ld  give  to  be  to  you  translated, 
O,  teach  me  how  you  look,  and  with  what  art 
You  sway  the  motion  of  Demetrius'  heart. 

Hermia. 
f  frown  upon  him,  yet  he  loves  me  still. 

Helena. 
O  that  your  frowns  would  teach  my  smiles  such  skill  I 


sc.  I.       A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM       ii 

Hermia. 
I  give  him  curses,  yet  he  gives  me  love. 

Helena. 
O  that  my  prayers  could  such  affection  move ! 

Hermia. 
The  more  I  hate,  the  more  he  follows  me. 

Helena. 
The  more  I  love,  the  more  he  hateth  me. 

Hermia. 
His  folly,  Helena,  is  no  fault  of  mine. 

Helena. 
None,  but  your  beauty  :  would  that  fault  were  mine ! 

Hermia. 
Take  comfort :  he  no  more  shall  see  my  face ; 
Lysander  and  myself  will  fly  this  place. 
Before  the  time  I  did  Lysander  see, 
Seem'd  Athens  as  a  paradise  to  me  : 
O,  then,  what  graces  in  my  love  do  dwell, 
That  he  hath  turn'd  a  heaven  unto  a  hell ! 

Lysander. 
Helen,  to  you  our  minds  we  will  unfold : 
To-morrow  night,  when  Phoebe  doth  behold 


12      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM      act  i. 

Her  silver  visage  in  the  watery  glass, 
Decking  with  liquid  pearl  the  bladed  grass, 
A  time  that  lovers'  flights  doth  still  conceal. 
Through  Athens'  gates  have  we  devised  to  steal. 

Hermia. 
And  in  the  wood  where  often  you  and  I 
Upon  faint  primrose-beds  were  wont  to  lie, 
Emptying  our  bosoms  of  their  counsel  sweet, 
There  my  Lysander  and  myself  shall  meet ; 
And  thence  from  Athens  turn  away  our  eyes, 
To  seek  new  friends  and  stranger  companies. 
Farewell,  sweet  playfellow  :  pray  thou  for  us  ; 
And  good  luck  grant  thee  thy  Demetrius ! 
Keep  word,  Lysander :  we  must  starve  our  sight 
From  lovers'  food  till  morrow  deep  midnight. 

Lysander. 
I  will,  my  Hermia.  [Exi'i  Hermia. 

Helena,  adieu  : 
As  you  on  him,  Demetrius  dote  on  you  !  [Extl. 

Helena. 
How  happy  some  o'er  other  some  can  be ! 
Through  Athens  I  am  thought  as  fair  as  she. 
But  what  of  that  ?     Demetrius  thinks  not  so ; 
He  will  not  know  what  all  but  he  do  know  : 
And  as  he  errs,  doting  on  Hermia's  eyes, 
So  I,  admiring  of  his  qualities  : 
Things  base  and  vile,  holding  no  quantity,  .    s 


sc.  I.       A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM       13 

Love  can  transpose  to  form  and  dignity  : 

Love  looks  not  with  the  eyes,  but  with  the  mind  ; 

And  therefore  is  wing'd  Cupid  painted  blind  : 

Nor  hath  Love's  mind  of  any  judgement  taste  ; 

Wings  and  no  eyes  figure  unheedy  haste  : 

And  therefore  is  Love  said  to  be  a  child, 

Because  in  choice  he  is  so  oft  beguiled. 

As  waggish  boys  in  game  themselves  forswear, 

So  the  boy  Love  is  perjured  every  where : 

For  ere  Demetrius  look'd  on  Hermia's  eyne, 

He  hail'd  down  oaths  that  he  was  only  mine  ; 

And  when  this  hail  some  heat  from  Hermia  felt, 

So  he  dissolved,  and  showers  of  oath  did  melt 

I  will  go  tell  him  of  fair  Hermia's  flight : 

Then  to  the  wood  will  he  to-morrow  night 

Pursue  her ;  and  for  this  intelligence 

If  I  have  thanks,  it  is  a  dear  expense  : 

But  herein  mean  I  to  enrich  my  pain, 

To  have  his  sight  thither  and  back  again.  [Exit. 


Scene  II 

Athens.     Quince's  house. 

Enter  Quince,  Snug,  Bottom,  Flute,  Snout,  and 
Starveling. 

Quince. 
Is  all  our  company  here  ? 

Bottom. 
You  were  best  to  call  them  generally,  man  by  man, 
according  to  the  scrip. 

Quince. 

Here  is  the  scroll  of  every  man's  name,  which  is 
thought  fit,  through  all  Athens,  to  play  in  our  interlude 
before  the  duke  and  the  duchess,  on  his  wedding-day  at 
night. 

14 


sen.      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM       15 

Bottom. 
First,  good  Peter  Quince,  say  what  the  play  treats  on, 
then  read  the  names  of  the  actors,  and  so  grow  to  a 
point. 

Quince. 

Marry,  our  play  is,  The  most  lamentable  comedy,  and 
most  cruel  death  of  Pyramus  and  Thisby. 

Bottom. 
A  very  good  piece  of  work,  I  assure  you,  and  a  merry. 
Now,  good  Peter  Quince,  call  forth  your  actors  by  the 
scroll.     Masters,  spread  yourselves. 

Quince. 
Answer  as  I  call  you.     Nick  Bottom,  the  weaver. 

Bottom. 
Ready.     Name  what  part  I  am  for,  and  proceed. 

Quince. 
You,  Nick  Bottom,  are  set  down  for  Pyramus. 

Bottom. 
What  is  Pyramus  ?  a  lover,  or  a  tyrant } 

Quince. 
A  lover,  that  kills  himself  most  gallant  for  love. 

Bottom. 
That  will  ask  some  tears  in  the  true  performing  of  it : 
if  I  do  it,  let  the  audience  look  to  their  eyes ;   I  will 
move  storms,  I  will  condole  in  some  measure.     To  the 


i6      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM     act  i. 

rest :  yet  my  chief  humour  is  for  a  tyrant :  I  could  play 
Ercles  rarely,  or  a  part  to  tear  a  cat  in,  to  make  all  split. 

The  raging  rocks 
And  shivering  shocks 
Shall  break  the  locks 

Of  prison  gates ; 
And  Phibbus'  car 
Shall  shine  from  far 
And  make  and  mar 

The  foolish  Fates. 

This  was  lofty !  Now  name  the  rest  of  the  players. 
This  is  Ercles'  vein,  a  tyrant's  vein ;  a  lover  is  more 
condoling. 

Quince. 
Francis  Flute,  the  bellows-mender. 

Flute. 
Here,  Peter  Quince. 

Quince. 
Flute,  you  must  take  Thisby  on  you. 

Flute. 
What  is  Thisby  ?  a  wandering  knight  ? 

Quince. 
It  is  the  lady  that  Py ramus  must  love. 


sc.  11.     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM      17 

Flute. 
Nay,  faith,  let  not  me  play  a  woman  ;  I  have  a  beard 
coming. 

Quince. 

That's  all  one :  you  shall  play  it  in  a  mask,  and  you 
may  speak  as  small  as  you  will. 

Bottom. 
An  I  may  hide  my  face,  let  me  play  Thisby  too,  I'll 
speak  in  a  monstrous  little  voice,   'Thisne,  Thisne;' 
'  Ah  Pyramus,  my  lover  dear !  thy  Thisby  dear,  and 
lady  dear ! ' 

Quince. 
No,  no ;  you  must  play  Pyramus :   and,    Flute,    you 
Thisby. 

Bottom. 
Well,  proceed. 

Quince. 
Robin  Starveling,  the  tailor. 

Starveling. 
Here,  Peter  Quince. 

Quince. 
Robert  Starveling,   you  must  play  Thisby's  mother. 
Tom  Snout,  the  tinker. 

6 


1 8       A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     act  i 

Snout. 
Here,  Peter  Quince. 

Quince. 
You,  Pyramus'  father  :  myself,  Thisby's  father.     Snug, 
the  joiner ;  you,  the  lion's  part :  and,  I  hope,  here  is  a 
play  fitted. 

Snug. 
Have  you  the  lion's  part  written  .-*  pray  you,  if  it  be, 
give  it  me,  for  I  am  slow  of  study. 

Quince. 
You  may  do  it  extempore,  for  it  is  nothing  but  roaring. 

Bottom. 
Let  me  play  the  lion  too  :  I  will  roar,  that  I  will  do 
any  man's  heart  good  to  hear  me ;  I  will  roar,  that  I 
will  make  the  duke  say  '  Let  him  roar  again,  let  him 
roar  again.' 

Quince. 
An  you  should  do  it  too  terribly,  you  would  fright  the 
duchess  and  the  ladies,  that  they  would  shriek  ;  and 
that  were  enough  to  hang  us  all. 

All. 
That  would  hang  us,  every  mother's  son. 


sc.  II.     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM        19 

Bottom. 
I  grant  you,  friends,  if  that  you  should  fright  the 
ladies  out  of  their  wits,  they  would  have  no  more 
discretion  but  to  hang  us :  but  I  will  aggravate  my 
voice  so  that  I  will  roar  you  as  gently  as  any  sucking 
dove  ;  I  will  roar  you  an  'twere  any  nightingale. 

Quince. 
You  can  play  no  part  but  Pyramus ;  for  Pyramus  is  a 
sweet-faced  man  ;  a  proper  man,  as  one  shall  see  in  a 
summer's   day ;    a   most   lovely  gentleman-like  man : 
therefore  you  must  needs  play  Pyramus. 

Bottom. 
Well,  I  will  undertake  it     What  beard  were  I  best  to 
play  it  in  ? 

Quince. 
Why,  what  you  will. 

Bottom. 
I  will  discharge  it  In  either  your  straw-coloured  beard, 
your  orange-tawny  beard,  your  purple-in-grain  beard, 
or    your    French-crown-colour   beard,    your    perfect 
yellow. 

Quince. 
Some  of  your  French  crowns  have  no  hair  at  all,  and 
then  you  will  play  barefaced.     But,  masters,  here  are 
your  parts  :  and  I  am  to  entreat  you,  request  you  and 


20      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM     act  i. 

desire  you,  to  con  them  by  to-morrow  night ;  and 
meet  me  in  the  palace  wood,  a  mile  without  the 
town,  by  moonlight ;  there  will  we  rehearse,  for  if  we 
meet  in  the  city,  we  shall  be  dogged  with  company, 
and  our  devices  known.  In  the  meantime  I  will  draw 
a  bill  of  properties,  such  as  our  play  wants.  I  pray 
you,  fail  me  not. 

Bottom. 
We   will    meet ;    and  there   we   may    rehearse   most 
obscenely  and  courageously.     Take  pains  ;  be  perfect : 
adieu. 

Quince. 
At  the  duke's  oak  we  meet. 

Bottom. 
Enough  ;  hold  or  cut  bow-strings.  [Exeuni. 


^^y 


ACT  II 

Scene  I 


A  wood  near  Athens, 

Enter,  from  opposite  sides,  a  Fairy,  and  Puck. 

Puck. 
How  now,  spirit !  whither  wander  you  ? 

Fairy. 
Over  hill,  over  dale. 

Thorough  bush,  thorough  brier, 
Over  park,  over  pale. 

Thorough  flood,  thorough  fire, 
I  do  wander  every  where. 
Swifter  than  the  moon's  sphere  ; 


sc.  I.        A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM       23 

And  I  serve  the  fairy  queen, 
To  dew  her  orbs  upon  the  green. 
The  cowslips  tall  her  pensioners  be : 
In  their  gold  coats  spots  you  see ; 
Those  be  rubies,  fairy  favours, 
In  those  freckles  live  their  savours; 

f  must  go  seek  some  dewdrops  here 

And  hang  a  pearl  in  every  cowslip's  ear. 

Farewell,  thou  lob  of  spirits  ;  I'll  be  gone  : 

Our  queen  and  all  our  elves  come  here  anon. 

Puck, 
The  king  doth  keep  his  revels  here  to-night : 
Take  heed  the  queen  come  not  within  his  sight ; 
For  Oberon  is  passing  fell  and  wrath. 
Because  that  she  as  her  attendant  hath 
A  lovely  boy,  stolen  from  an  Indian  king ; 


24      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     act.  ii. 

She  never  had  so  sweet  a  changeling ; 
And  jealous  Oberon  would  have  the  child 
Knight  of  his  train,  to  trace  the  forests  wild  ; 
But  she  perforce  withholds  the  loved  boy, 
Crowns  him  with  flowers  and  makes  him  all  her  joy  : 
And  now  they  never  meet  in  grove  or  green, 
By  fountain  clear,  or  spangled  starlight  sheen, 
But  they  do  square,  that  all  their  elves  for  fear 
Creep  into  acorn-cups  and  hide  them  there. 


Either  I  mistake  your  shape  and  making  quite, 
Or  else  you  are  that  shrewd  and  knavish  sprite 
Call'd  Robin  Goodfellow  :  are  not  you  he 
That  frights  the  maidens  of  the  villagery  ; 


'^^^^w 


26      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     act  ii. 
Skim  milk,  and  sometimes  labour  in  the  quern 
And  bootless  make  the  breathless  housewife  churn ; 
And  sometime  make  the  drink  to  bear  no  barm ; 
Mislead  night- wanderers,  laughing  at  their  harm  ? 
Those  that  Hobgoblin  call  you  and  sweet  Puck, 
You  do  their  work,  and  they  shall  have  good  luck : 
Are  not  you  he  ? 

Puck. 
Thou  speak'st  aright ; 
I  am  that  merry  wanderer  of  the  night. 
I  jest  to  Oberon  and  make  him  smile 
When  I  a  fat  and  bean-fed  horse  beguile, 
Neighing  in  likeness  of  a  filly  foal  : 
And  sometime  lurk  I  in  a  gossip's  bowl, 
In  very  likeness  of  a  roasted  crab, 
And  when  she  drinks,  against  her  lips  I  bob 
And  on  her  wither'd  dewlap  pour  the  ale. 
The  wisest  aunt,  telling  the  saddest  tale, 
Sometime  for  three-foot  stool  mistaketh  me ; 
Then  slip  I  from  her  bum,  down  topples  she, 
And  *  tailor '  cries,  and  falls  into  a  cough  ; 
And  then  the  whole  quire  hold  their  hips  and  laugh, 
And  waxen  in  their  mirth  and  neeze  and  swear 
A  merrier  hour  was  never  wasted  there. 
But,  room,  fairy  1  here  comes  Oberon. 

Fairy. 
And  here  my  mistress.     Would  that  he  were  gone  1 


'""— 4<^wv 'tj^t^le^S  ir/^«'/' 


2S      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM     act  ii. 

Enter,  from  one  side,   Oberon,  with  his  train ;  /rom 
the  other,  Titania,  with  hers. 

Oberon. 
Ill  met  by  moonlight,  proud  Titania. 

Titania. 
What,  jealous  Oberon !  Fairies,  skip  hence  : 
I  have  forsworn  his  bed  and  company. 

Oberon. 
Tarry,  rash  wanton  :  am  not  I  thy  lord  ? 

\      Titania. 
Then  I  must  be  thy  lady  :  but  I  know 
When  thou  hast  stolen  away  from  fairy  land, 
And  in  the  shape  of  Corin  sat  all  day, 
Playing  on  pipes  of  corn  and  versing  love 
To  amorous  Phillida.     Why  art  thou  here, 
Come  from  the  farthest  steppe  of  India? 
But  that,  forsooth,  the  bouncing  Amazon, 
Your  buskin'd  mistress  and  your  warrior  love. 
To  Theseus  must  be  wedded,  and  you  come 
To  give  their  bed  joy  and  prosperity. 

Oberon. 
How  canst  thou  thus  for  shame,  Titania, 
Glance  at  my  credit  with  Hippolyta, 
Knowing  I  know  thy  love  to  Theseus  .'* 
Didst  thou  not  lead  him  through  the  glimmering  night 
From  Perigenia,  whom  he  ravished  .>* 


sc.  I.     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM       29 

And  make  him  with  fair  JEgle  break  his  faith, 
With  Ariadne  and  Antiopa  ? 

Titan  lA. 
These  are  the  forgeries  of  jealousy  : 
And  never,  since  the  middle  summer's  spring, 
Met  we  on  hill,  in  dale,  forest  or  mead, 
By  paved  fountain  or  by  rushy  brook, 
Or  in  the  beached  margent  of  the  sea. 
To  dance  our  ringlets  to  the  whistling  wind. 
But  with  thy  brawls  thou  hast  disturbed  our  sport 
Therefore  the  winds,  piping  to  us  in  vain, 
As  in  revenge,  have  suck'd  up  from  the  sea 
Contagious  fogs  ;  which  falling  in  the  land 
Have  every  pelting  river  made  so  proud 
That  they  have  overborne  their  continents : 
The  ox  hath  therefore  stretch'd  his  yoke  in  vain, 
The  ploughman  lost  his  sweat,  and  the  green  corn 
Hath  rotted  ere  his  youth  attain'd  a  beard ; 
The  fold  stands  empty  in  the  drowned  field. 
And  crows  are  fatted  with  the  murrion  flock  ; 
The  nine  men's  morris  is  fill'd  up  with  mud. 
And  the  quaint  mazes  in  the  wanton  green 
For  lack  of  tread  are  undistinguishable  : 
The  human  mortals  want  their  winter  here ; 
No  night  is  now  with  hymn  or  carol  blest : 
Therefore  the  moon,  the  governess  of  floods. 
Pale  in  her  anger,  washes  all  the  air. 
That  rheumatic  diseases  do  abound : 


30     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM    act  ii. 

And  thorough  this  distemperature  we  see 

The  seasons  alter  :  hoary-headed  frosts 

Fall  in  the  fresh  lap  of  the  crimson  rose, 

And  on  old  Hiems'  thin  and  icy  crown 

An  odorous  chaplet  of  sweet  summer  buds 

Is,  as  In  mockery,  set :  the  spring,  the  summer, 

The  childing  autumn,  angry  winter,  change 

Their  wonted  liveries,  and  the  mazed  world, 

By  their  increase,  now  knows  not  which  is  which  : 

And  this  same  progeny  of  evils  comes 

From  our  debate,  from  our  dissension  ; 

We  are  their  parents  and  original. 

Oberon. 

Do  you  amend  it  then  ;  it  lies  in  you  : 
Why  should  Titania  cross  her  Oberon  ? 
I  do  but  beg  a  little  changeling  boy, 
To  be  my  henchman. 

Titania. 

Set  your  heart  at  rest: 
The  fairy  land  buys  not  a  child  of  me. 
His  mother  was  a  votaress  of  my  order  : 
And,  in  the  spiced  Indian  air,  by  night. 
Full  often  hath  she  gossip'd  by  my  side, 
And  sat  with  me  on  Neptune's  yellow  sands, 
Marking  the  embarked  traders  on  the  flood. 
When  we  have  laugh'd  to  see  the  sails  conceive 
And  grow  big-bellied  with  the  wanton  wind ; 
Which  she,  with  pretty  and  with  swimming  gait 


tS£s* 


— -»-    ^ 


SCI.      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM       31 

Following, — her    womb    then    rich    with    my    young 

squire, — 
Would  imitate,  and  sail  upon  the  land, 
To  fetch  me  trifles,  and  return  again, 
As  from  a  voyage,  rich  with  merchandise. 
But  she,  being  mortal,  of  that  boy  did  die  ; 
And  for  her  sake  do  I  rear  up  her  boy, 
And  for  her  sake  I  will  not  part  with  him. 

Oberon. 
How  long  within  this  wood  intend  you  stay  ? 

TiTANIA. 

Perchance  till  after  Theseus*  wedding-day. 
If  you  will  patiently  dance  in  our  round 
And  see  our  moonlight  revels,  go  with  us  ; 
If  not,  shun  me,  and  I  will  spare  your  haunts, 

Oberon. 
Give  me  that  boy,  and  I  will  go  with  thee. 

TiTANIA. 

Not  for  thy  fairy  kingdom.     Fairies,  away ! 
We  shall  chide  downright,  if  I  longer  stay. 

[Exit  TiTANIA  wM  her  train, 

Oberon. 
Well,  go  thy  way :  thou  shalt  not  from  this  grove 
Till  I  torment  thee  for  this  injury. 
My  gentle  Puck,  come  hither.     Thou  rememberest 


32      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM    act  li. 

Since  once  I  sat  upon  a  promontory, 
And  heard  a  mermaid  on  a  dolphin's  back 
Uttering  such  dulcet  and  harmonious  breath 
That  the  rude  sea  grew  civil  at  her  song 
And  certain  stars  shot  madly  from  their  spheres, 
To  hear  the  sea-maid's  music. 

Puck. 

I  remember. 
Oberon. 
That  very  time  I  saw,  but  thou  couldst  not, 
Flying  between  the  cold  moon  and  the  earth, 
Cupid  all  arm'd  :  a  certain  aim  he  took 
At  a  fair  vestal  throned  by  the  west, 
And  loosed  his  love-shaft  smartly  from  his  bow, 
As  it  should  pierce  a  hundred  thousand  hearts ; 
But  I  might  see  young  Cupid's  fiery  shaft 
Quench'd  in  the  chaste  beams  of  the  watery  moon, 
And  the  imperial  votaress  passed  on. 
In  maiden  meditation,  fancy-free. 
Yet  mark'd  I  where  the  bolt  of  Cupid  fell : 
It  fell  upon  a  little  western  flower. 
Before  milk-white,  now  purple  with  love's  wound, 
And  maidens  call  it  love-in-idleness. 
Fetch  me  that  flower ;  the  herb  I  shew'd  thee  once  : 
The  juice  of  it  on  sleeping  eyelids  laid 
Will  make  or  man  or  woman  madly  dote 
Upon  the  next  live  creature  that  it  sees. 
Fetch  me  this  herb ;  and  be  thou  here  again 
Ere  the  leviathan  can  swim  a  league. 


EKE  THE  LEVIATHAN  CAN   SWIM   A   LEAGUE 


34      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM    act  ii. 

Puck. 
I'll  put  a  girdle  round  obout  the  earth 
In  forty  minutes.  [^Ext't, 

Oberon. 
Having  once  this  juice, 
I'll  watch  Titania  when  she  is  asleep, 
And  drop  the  liquor  of  it  in  her  eyes. 
The  next  thing  then  she  waking  looks  upon, 
Be  it  on  lion,  bear,  or  wolf,  or  bull, 
On  meddling  monkey,  or  on  busy  ape. 
She  shall  pursue  it  with  the  soul  of  love  : 
And  ere  I  take  this  charm  from  off  her  sight, 
As  I  can  take  it  with  another  herb, 
I'll  make  her  render  up  her  page  to  me. 
But  who  comes  here  ?     I  am  invisible  ; 
And  I  will  overhear  their  conference. 

Enter  Demetrius,  W^eleu  a  following  him, 

Demetrius. 
I  love  thee  not,  therefore  pursue  me  not. 
Where  is  Lysander  and  fair  Hermia? 
The  one  I'll  slay,  the  other  slayeth  me. 
Thou  told'st  me  they  were  stolen  unto  this  wood ; 
And  here  am  I,  and  wode  within  this  wood, 
Because  I  cannot  meet  my  Hermia; 
Hence,  get  thee  gone,  and  follow  me  no  more. 


sc.  I.      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM       35 

Helena. 
You  draw  me,  you  hard-hearted  adamant ; 
But  yet  you  draw  not  iron,  for  my  heart 
Is  true  as  steel :  leave  you  your  power  to  draw. 
And  I  shall  have  no  power  to  follow  you. 

Demetrius. 
Do  I  entice  you  ?  do  I  speak  you  fair  ? 
Or,  rather,  do  I  not  in  plainest  truth 
Tell  you,  I  do  not,  nor  I  cannot  love  you  ? 

Helena. 
And  even  for  that  do  I  love  you  the  more. 
I  am  your  spaniel  ;  and,  Demetrius, 
The  more  you  beat  me,  I  will  fawn  on  you  : 
Use  me  but  as  your  spaniel,  spurn  me,  strike  me, 
Neglect  me,  lose  me  ;  only  give  me  leave, 
Unworthy  as  I  am,  to  follow  you. 
What  worser  place  can  I  beg  in  your  love,—- 
And  yet  a  place  of  high  respect  with  me, — 
Than  to  be  used  as  you  use  your  dog  ? 

Demetrius. 
Tempt  not  too  much  the  hatred  of  my  spirit. 
For  I  am  sick  when  I  do  look  on  thee. 

Helena. 
And  I  am  sick  when  I  look  not  on  you. 


36      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     act  u. 

Demetrius. 
You  do  Impeach  your  modesty  too  much, 
To  leave  the  city  and  commit  yourself 
Into  the  hands  of  one  that  loves  you  not ; 
To  trust  the  opportunity  of  night 
And  the  ill  counsel  of  a  desert  place 
With  the  rich  worth  of  your  virginity. 

Helena. 
Your  virtue  is  my  privilege :  for  that 
It  is  not  night  when  I  do  see  your  face, 
Therefore  I  think  I  am  not  in  the  night ; 
Nor  doth  this  wood  lack  worlds  of  company, 
For  you  in  my  respect  are  all  the  world  : 
Then  how  can  it  be  said  I  am  alone, 
When  all  the  world  is  here  to  look  on  me  ? 

Demetrius. 
ril  run  from  thee  and  hide  me  in  the  brakes, 
And  leave  thee  to  the  mercy  of  wild  beasts. 

Helena. 
The  wildest  hath  not  such  a  heart  as  you. 
Run  when  you  will,  the  story  shall  be  changed : 
Apollo  flies,  and  Daphne  holds  the  chase  ; 
The  dove  pursues  the  griffin  ;  the  mild  hind 
Makes  speed  to  catch  the  tiger  ;  bootless  speed, 
When  cowardice  pursues  and  valour  flies. 


sc.  I.      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM       37 

Demetrius. 
I  will  not  stay  thy  questions  ;  let  me  go : 
Or,  if  thou  follow  me,  do  not  believe 
But  I  shall  do  thee  mischief  in  the  wood. 

Helena. 
Ay,  in  the  temple,  in  the  town,  the  field, 
You  do  me  mischief.     Fie,  Demetrius 
Your  wrongs  do  set  a  scandal  on  my  sex  : 
We  cannot  fight  for  love,  as  men  may  do  ; 
We  should  be  woo'd  and  were  not  made  to  woo. 

[£xz^  Demetrius. 
I'll  follow  thee  and  make  a  heaven  of  hell, 
To  die  upon  the  hand  I  love  so  well.  [^Bxz^. 

Oberon. 
Fare  thee  well,  nymph  :  ere  he  do  leave  this  grove, 
Thou  shalt  fly  him  and  he  shall  seek  thy  love. 

Re-enter  Puck. 
Hast  thou  the  flower  there  .'*     Welcome,  wanderer. 

Puck. 
Ay,  there  it  is. 

Oberon. 
I  pray  thee,  give  it  me. 
I  know  a  bank  where  the  wild  thyme  blows. 
Where  oxlips  and  the  nodding  violet  grows. 


38      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM    act  n. 

Quite  over-canopied  with  luscious  woodbine, 

With  sweet  musk-roses  and  with  eglantine  : 

There  sleeps  Titania  sometime  of  the  night, 

LuU'd  in  these  flowers  with  dances  and  delight ; 

And  there  the  snake  throws  her  enamell'd  skin, 

Weed  wide  enough  to  wrap  a  fairy  in  : 

And  with  the  juice  of  this  I'll  streak  her  eyes, 

And  make  her  full  of  hateful  fantasies. 

Take  thou  some  of  it,  and  seek  through  this  grove  : 

A  sweet  Athenian  lady  is  in  love 

With  a  disdainful  youth :  anoint  his  eyes ; 

But  do  it  when  the  next  thing  he  espies 

May  be  the  lady :  thou  shalt  know  the  man 

By  the  Athenian  garments  he  hath  on. 

Effect  it  with  some  care  that  he  may  prove 

More  fond  on  her  than  she  upon  her  love  : 

And  look  thou  meet  me  ere  the  first  cock  crow. 

Puck. 

Fear  not,  my  lord,  your  servant  shall  do  so. 

[Exeunty 


Scene  II 
Another  part  of  the  wood. 
Enter  Titania,  with  her  train. 

TiTANIA. 

Come,  now  a  roundel  and  a  fairy  song  ; 
Then,  for  the  third  part  of  a  minute,  hence  ; 
Some  to  kill  cankers  in  the  musk-rose  buds, 
Some  war  with  rere-mice  for  their  leathern  wings, 
To  make  my  small  elves  coats,  and  some  keep  back 
The  clamorous  owl  that  nightly  hoots  and  wonders 
At  our  quaint  spirits.     Sing  me  now  asleep  : 
Then  to  your  offices  and  let  me  rest. 

40 


<H> 


T\c  r^irUf  S^Jf^ 


Nor  rTvcH.    Aor  C^rnv , 


44      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     act  ti. 

A  Fairy. 
Hence,  away  !  now  all  is  well : 
One  aloof  stand  sentinel. 

[^Exeunt  Fairies.     Titania  sleeps. 


Enter  Oberon,  >  xnd  squeezes  the  flower  on 
Titania's  eyelids. 

Oberon. 

What  thou  seest  when  thou  dost  wake, 

Do  it  for  thy  true-love  take, 

Love  and  languish  for  his  sake  : 

Be  it  ounce,  or  cat,  or  bear, 

Pard,  or  boar  with  bristled  hair, 

In  thy  eye  that  shall  appear 

When  thou  wakest,  it  is  thy  dear  : 

Wake  when  some  vile  thing  is  near.         \Exit. 


sc.  II.    A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM        45 

Enter  Lysander  and  Hermia. 

Lysander. 
Fair  love,  you  faint  with  wandering  in  the  wood : 
And  to  speak  troth,  I  have  forgot  our  way  : 
We'll  rest  us,  Hermia,  if  you  think  it  good, 
And  tarry  for  the  comfort  of  the  day. 

Hermia. 
Be  it  so,  Lysander  :  find  you  out  a  bed  ; 
For  I  upon  this  bank  will  rest  my  head. 

Lysander. 
One  turf  shall  serve  as  pillow  for  us  both ; 
One  heart,  one  bed,  two  bosoms  and  one  troth. 

Hermia. 
Nay,  good  Lysander  ;  for  my  sake,  my  dear, 
Lie  further  off  yet,  do  not  lie  so  near. 

Lysander. 
O,  take  the  sense,  sweet,  of  my  innocence ! 
Love  takes  the  meaning  in  love's  conference. 
I  mean,  that  my  heart  unto  yours  is  knit 
So  that  but  one  heart  we  can  make  of  it ; 
Two  bosoms  interchained  with  an  oath ; 
So  then  two  bosoms  and  a  single  troth. 
Then  by  your  side  no  bed-room  me  deny ; 
For  lying  so,  Hermia,  I  do  not  lie. 


46      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     act  ii. 

Hermia. 
Lysander  riddles  very  prettily  : 
Now  much  beshrew  my  manners  and  my  pride, 
If  Hermia  meant  to  say  Lysander  lied. 
But,  gentle  friend,  for  love  and  courtesy 
Lie  further  off;  in  human  modesty. 
Such  separation  as  may  well  be  said 
Becomes  a  virtuous  bachelor  and  a  maid, 
So  far  be  distant ;  and,  good  night,  sweet  friend  : 
Thy  love  ne'er  alter  till  thy  sweet  life  end ! 

Lysander. 
Amen,  amen,  to  that  fair  prayer,  say  I  ; 
And  then  end  life  when  I  end  loyalty  ! 
Here  is  my  bed  :  sleep  give  thee  all  his  rest ! 

Hermia. 
With  half  that  wish  the  wisher's  eyes  be  press'd  ! 

[  They  sleep. 

Enter  Puck. 

Puck. 
Through  the  forest  have  I  gone. 
But  Athenian  found  I  none, 
On  whose  eyes  I  might  approve 
This  flower's  force  in  stirring  love. 
Night  and  silence. — Who  is  here  ? 
Weeds  of  Athens  he  doth  wear  : 


sc.  II.     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM        47 

This  is  he,  my  master  said, 

Despised  the  Athenian  maid  ; 

And  here  the  maiden,  sleeping  sound, 

On  the  dank  and  dirty  ground. 

Pretty  soul  1  she  durst  not  lie 

Near  this  lack-love,  this  kill-courtesy. 

Churl,  upon  thy  eyes  I  throw 

All  the  power  this  charm  doth  owe. 

When  thou  wakest,  let  love  forbid 

Sleep  his  seat  on  thy  eyelid  : 

So  awake  when  I  am  gone  ; 

For  I  must  now  to  Oberon.  [£!«*/. 

Enter  Demetrius  and  Helena,  running, 

Helena. 
Stay,  though  thou  kill  me,  sweet  Demetrius. 

Demetrius. 
I  charge  thee,  hence,  and  do  not  haunt  me  thus. 

Helena. 
O,  wilt  thou  darkling  leave  me  }  do  not  sa 

Demetrius. 
Stay,  on  thy  peril  :   I  alone  will  go.  \ExiL 

Helena. 
O,  I  am  out  of  breath  in  this  fond  chase\ 
The  more  my  prayer,  the  lesser  is  my  grace. 


48      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     act  ii. 

Happy  is  Hermla,  wheresoe'er  she  lies  ; 

For  she  hath  blessed  and  attractive  eyes. 

How  came  her  eyes  so  bright  ?     Not  with  salt 

tears : 
I  f  so,  my  eyes  are  oftener  wash'd  than  hers. 
No,  no,  I  am  as  ugly  as  a  bear  ; 
For  beasts  that  meet  me  run  away  for  fear : 
Therefore  no  marvel  though  Demetrius 
Do,  as  a  monster,  fly  my  presence  thus. 
What  wicked  and  dissembling  glass  of  mine 
Made  me  compare  with  Hermia's  sphery  eyne  ? 
But  who  is  here  ?     Lysander !  on  the  ground  ! 
Dead  ?  or  asleep  ?     I  see  no  blood,  no  wound. 
Lysander,  if  you  live,  good  sir,  awake. 

Lysander. 
[^Awakin^-]  And  run  through  fire  I  will  for  thy  sweet 

sake. 
Transparent  Helena!     Nature  shows  art. 
That  through  thy  bosom  makes  me  see  thy  heart. 
Where  is  Demetrius  ?     O,  how  fit  a  word 
Is  that  vile  name  to  perish  on  my  sword ! 

Helena. 
Do  not  say  so,  Lysander ;  say  not  so. 
What   though   he  love   your    Hermia  ?     Lord,  what 

though  ? 
Yet  Hermia  still  loves  you  :  then  be  content. 


sc.  II.     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM       49 

Lysander. 
Content  with  Hermia  !     No  ;  I  do  repent 
The  tedious  minutes  I  with  her  have  spent 
Not  Hermia  but  Helena  I  love  : 
Who  will  not  change  a  raven  for  a  dove  ? 
The  will  of  man  is  by  his  reason  sway'd  ; 
And  reason  says  you  are  the  worthier  maid. 
Things  growing  are  not  ripe  until  their  season  : 
So  I,  being  young,  till  now  ripe  not  to  reason  ; 
And  touching  now  the  point  of  human  skill, 
Reason  becomes  the  marshal  to  my  will 
And  leads  me  to  your  eyes,  where  I  o'crlook 
Love's  stories  written  in  love's  richest  book. 


Helena. 
Wherefore  was  I  to  this  keen  mockery  born  ? 
When  at  your  hands  did  I  deserve  this  scorn  ? 
Is 't  not  enough,  is 't  not  enough,  young  man, 
That  I  did  never,  no,  nor  never  can. 
Deserve  a  sweet  look  from  Demetrius'  eye, 
But  you  must  flout  my  insufficiency  ? 
Good  troth,  you  do  me  wrong,  good  sooth,  you  do, 
In  such  disdainful  manner  me  to  woo. 
But  fare  you  well :  perforce  I  must  confess 
]  thought  you  lord  of  more  true  gentleness.    . 
O,  that  a  lady,  of  one  man  refused, 
Should  of  another  therefore  be  abused !  [£xt^. 


50      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     act  ii. 

Lysander. 
She  sees  not  Hermia.     Hermla,  sleep  thou  there  : 
And  never  mayst  thou  come  Lysander  near ! 
For  as  a  surfeit  of  the  sweetest  things 
The  deepest  loathing  to  the  stomach  brings, 
Or  as  the  heresies  that  men  do  leave 
Are  hated  most  of  those  they  did  deceive, 
So  thou,  my  surfeit  and  my  heresy, 
Of  all  be  hated,  but  the  most  of  me  ! 
And,  all  my  powers,  address  your  love  and  might 
To  honour  Helen  and  to  be  her  knight !  [Exit. 

Hermia. 
[Awaking]  Help  me,  Lysander,  help  me  !  do  thy  best 
To  pluck  this  crawling  serpent  from  my  breast ! 
Ay  me,  for  pity !  what  a  dream  was  here  ! 
Lysander,  look  how  I  do  quake  with  fear : 
Methought  a  serpent  eat  my  heart  away, 
And  you  sat  smiling  at  his  cruel  prey. 
Lysander !  what,  removed  }  Lysander !  lord  ! 
What,  out  of  hearing?  gone.**  no  sound,  no  word? 
Alack,  where  are  you  ?  speak,  an  if  you  hear  ; 
Speak,  of  all  loves  !  I  swoon  almost  with  fear. 
No  ?  then  I  well  perceive  you  are  not  nigh  : 
Either  death  or  you  I'll  find  immediately.  [ExiL 


ACT 

Scene  1 . 

The  wood.     Titania  lying  asleep. 

Enter  Quince,  Snug,  Bottom,  Flute,  Snout, 
and  Starveling. 

Bottom. 
Are  we  all  met  } 

Quince. 

Pat,  pat ;  and  here's  a  marvellous  convenient  place  for 
our  rehearsal.  This  green  plot  shall  be  our  stage, 
this  hawthorn-brake  our  tiring-house ;  and  we  will  do 
it  in  action  as  we  will  do  it  before  the  duke. 

52 


sc.  I.       A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM       53 

Bottom. 
Peter  Quince, — 

Quince. 
What  sayest  thou,  Bully  Bottom  ? 

Bottom. 
There  are   things  in  this   comedy   of  Pyramus   and 
Thisby  that  will  never  please.     First,  Pyramus  must 
draw  a  sword  to  kill  himself;  which  the  ladies  cannot 
abide.     How  answer  you  that  ? 

Snout. 
By  'r  lakin,  a  parlous  fear. 

Starveling. 
I  believe  we  must  leave  the  killing  out,  when  all  is 
done. 

Bottom. 
Not  a  whit :  I  have  a  device  to  make  all  well.  Write 
me  a  prologue  ;  and  let  the  prologue  seem  to  say,  we 
will  do  no  harm  with  our  swords  and  that  Pyramus  is 
not  killed  indeed  ;  and,  for  the  more  better  assurance, 
tell  them  that  I  Pyramus  am  not  Pyramus,  but  Bottom 
the  weaver  :  this  will  put  them  out  of  fear. 

Quince. 
Well,  we  will  have  such  a  prologue  ;  and  it  shall  be 
written  in  eight  and  six. 


54      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM   act  iii. 

Bottom. 
No,  make  it  two  more  ;  let  it  be  written  in  eight  and 
eight. 

Snout. 

Will  not  the  ladies  be  afeard  of  the  lion  ? 

Starveling. 
I  fear  it,  I  promise  you. 

Bottom. 
Masters,  you  ought  to  consider  with  yourselves  :  to 
bring  in — God  shield  us ! — a  lion  among  ladies,  is  a 
most  dreadful  thing  ;  for  there  is  not  a  more  fearful 
wild-fowl  than  your  lion  living  ;  and  we  ought  to  look 
to  't. 

Snout. 

Therefore  another  prologue  must  tell  he  is  not  a  lion. 

Bottom. 
Nay,  you  must  name  his  name,  and  half  his  face  must 
be  seen  throuo^h  the  lion's  neck  :  and  he  himself  must 
speak  through,  saying  thus,  or  to  the  same  defect, — 
*  Ladies,'  or  *  Fair  ladies, — I  would  wish  you,' — or  '  I 
would  request  you,' — or  *  I  would  entreat  you, — not  to 
fear,  not  to  tremble  :  my  life  for  yours.  If  you  think 
I  come  hither  as  a  lion,  it  were  pity  of  my  life  :  no,  I 
am  no  such  thing  ;  I  am  a  man  as  other  men  are  ; '  and 
there  indeed  let  him  name  his  name,  and  tell  them 
plainly  he  is  Snug  the  joiner. 


sc.  I.       A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM       55 

Quince. 
Well,  it  shall  be  so.     But  there  is  two  hard  things ; 
that  is,  to  bring  the  moonlight  into  a  chamber ;  for, 
you  know,  Pyramus  and  Thisby  meet  by  moonlight 

Snout. 
Doth  the  moon  shine  that  night  we  play  our  play  ? 

Bottom. 
A  calendar,  a  calendar  I  look  in  the  almanac  ;  find  out 
moonshine,  find  out  moonshine. 

Quince. 
Yes,  it  doth  shine  that  night. 

Bottom. 
Why,   then  may  you  leave  a  casement  of  the  great 
chamber-window,  where  we  play,  open,  and  the  moon 
may  shine  in  at  the  casement. 

\ 

Quince. 

Ay ;  or  else  one  must  come  in  with  a  bush  of  thorns 
and  a  lanthorn,  and  say  he  comes  to  disfigure,  or  to 
present,  the  person  of  Moonshine.  Then,  there  is 
another  thing :  we  must  have  a  wall  in  the  great 
chamber ;  for  Pyramus  and  Thisby,  says  the  story,  did 
talk  through  the  chink  of  a  wall. 


56     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM    act  iii. 

Snout. 
You   can   never   bring   in   a   wall.      What   say  you, 
Bottom  ? 

Bottom. 
Some  man  or  other  must  present  Wall ;  and  let  him 
have  some  plaster,  or  some  loam,  or  some  rough-cast 
about  him,  to  signify  wall ;  and  let  him  hold  his  fingers 
thus,  and  through  that  cranny  shall  Pyramus  and 
Thisby  whisper. 

Quince. 
If  that  may  be,  then  all  is  well.  Come,  sit  down, 
every  mother's  son,  and  rehearse  your  parts. 
Pyramus,  you  begin  :  when  you  have  spoken  your 
speech,  enter  into  that  brake  :  and  so  every  one 
according  to  his  cue. 

Enter  Puck  behind. 

Puck. 
What  hempen  home-spuns  have  we  swaggering  here, 
So  near  the  cradle  of  the  fairy  queen  ? 
What,  a  play  toward  !     I'll  be  an  auditor ; 
An  actor  too  perhaps,  if  I  see  cause. 

Quince. 
Speak,  Pyramus.     Thisby,  stand  forth. 

Bottom. 
Thisby,  the  flowers  of  odious  savours  sweet, — 


sc.  I.     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM        57 

Quince. 
Odours,  odours. 

Bottom. 
odours  savours  sweet : 
So  hath  thy  breath,  my  dearest  Thisby  dear. 
But  hark,  a  voice  !  stay  thou  but  here  awhile, 
And  by  and  by  I  will  to  thee  appear.  [Bxtl. 

Puck. 
A  stranger  Pyramus  than  e'er  played  here.  [£xt/. 

Flute. 
Must  I  speak  now? 

Quince. 
Ay,  marry,  must  you  :  for  you  must  understand  he 
goes  but  to  see  a  noise  that  he  heard,  and  is  to  come 
again. 

Flute. 
Most  radiant  Pyramus,  most  lily-white  of  hue. 
Of  colour  like  the  red  rose  on  triumphant  brier, 
Most  brisky  juvenal  and  eke  most  lovely  Jew, 
As  true  as  truest  horse  that  yet  would  never  tire, 
I'll  meet  thee,  Pyramus,  at  Ninny's  tomb. 

Quince. 

•  Ninus'  tomb,'  man  :  why,  you  must  not  speak  that 
yet ;  that  you  answer  to  Pyramus  :  you  speak  all  your 


58      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     act  hi. 

part  at  once,  cues  and  all.     Pyramus  enter :  your  cue 
is  past ;  it  is,  *  never  tire.' 

Flute. 
O, — As  true  as  truest  horse,  that  yet  would  never  tire. 

Re-enter  Puck,  and  Bottom  with  an  ass's  head. 

Bottom. 
If  I  were  fair,  Thisby,  I  were  only  thine. 

Quince. 
O  monstrous  !  O  strange  !  we  are  haunted. 
Pray,  masters  !  fly,  masters  !  Help  ! 

\Exeunt  Quince,  Snug,  Flute, 
Snout,  and  Starveling. 

Puck. 
I'll  follow  you,  I'll  lead  you  about  a  round, 
Through  bog,  through  bush,  through  brake,  through 

brier  : 
Sometime  a  horse  I'll  be,  sometime  a  hound, 
A  hog,  a  headless  bear,  sometime  a  fire  ; 
And  neigh,  and  bark,  and  grunt,  and  roar,  and  burn 
Like  horse,  hound,  hog,  bear,  fire,  at  every  turn. 

\Exit. 
Bottom. 

Why  do  they  run  away  .-*  this  is  a  knavery  of  them  to 
make  me  afeard. 


sc.  I.       A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM      59 
Re-enter  Snout. 

Snout. 

0  Bottom,  thou  art  changed  !  what  do  I  see  on  thee  ? 

Bottom. 
What  do  you  see  ?  you  see  an  ass-head  of  your  own, 
do  you  ?  \Exit  Snout. 

Re-enter  Quince. 

Quince. 
Bless  thee,  Bottom  !  bless  thee  !  thou  art  translated. 

{Exit, 
Bottom. 

1  see  their  knavery  :  this  is  to  make  an  ass  of  me ;  to 
fright  me,  if  they  could.  But  I  will  not  stir  from  this 
place,  do  what  they  can :  I  will  walk  up  and  down 
here,  and  I  will  sing,  that  they  shall  hear  I  am  not 
afraid.  \Sings, 

The  ousel  cock  so  black  of  hue ^ 

With  orange-tawny  billy 
The  throstle  with  his  note  so  true^ 

The  wren  with  little  quills — 

Titan  I  A. 
(Awaking)  What  angel  wakes  me  from  my  flowery 
bed.? 


6o    A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     act  hi. 

Bottom. 

The  finch,  the  sparrow  and  the  lark, 
^         The  plain-song  cuckoo  gray, 

Whose  note  full  many  a  man  doth  nzarky 
And  dares  not  answer  nay  ; — 

for,  indeed,  who  would  set  his  wit  to  so  foolish  a  bird  ? 
who  would  give  a  bird  the  lie,  though  he  cry  *  cuckoo  * 
never  so  ? 

TiTANIA. 

I  pray  thee,  gentle  mortal,  sing  again  : 

Mine  ear  is  much  enamour'd  of  thy  note ; 

So  is  mine  eye  enthralled  to  thy  shape  ; 

And  thy  fair  virtue's  force  perforce  doth  move  me 

On  the  first  view  to  say,  to  swear,  I  love  thee. 

Bottom. 
Methinks,  mistress,  you  should  have  little  reason  for 
that :  and  yet,  to  say  the  truth,  reason  and  love  keep 
little  company  together  now-a-days ;  the  more  the 
pity  that  some  honest  neighbours  will  not  make  them 
friends.     Nay,  I  can  gleek  upon  occasion. 

Titan  I A 
Thou  art  as  wise  as  thou  art  beautiful. 

Bottom. 
Not  so,  neither :  but  if  I  had  wit  enough  to  get  out 
of  this  wood,  I  have  enough  to  serve  mine  own  turn. 


^iHii^ifa 


sc.  I.      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM         6i 

TiTANIA. 

Out  of  this  wood  do  not  desire  to  go : 

Thou  shalt  remain  here,  whether  thou  wilt  or  no. 

I  am  a  spirit  of  no  common  rate  : 

The  summer  still  doth  tend  upon  my  state  ; 

And  I  do  love  thee  :  therefore,  go  with  me ; 

I'll  give  thee  fairies  to  attend  on  thee, 

And  they  shall  fetch  thee  jewels  from  the  deep, 

And  sing  while  thou  on  pressed  flowers  dost  sleep : 

And  I  will  purge  thy  mortal  grossness  so 

That  thou  shalt  like  an  airy  spirit  go. 

Peaseblossom  !  Cobweb !  Moth  !  and  Mustardseed  ! 

Enter  Peaseblossom,  Cobwlb,  Moth,  and 
Mustardseed. 


Peaseblossom. 

Ready. 

And  I. 

Cobweb. 

Moth. 
And  I. 

Mustardseed. 
And  I. 

All. 

Where  shall  we  go  ? 


62    A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM    act  hi. 

TiTANIA. 

Be  kind  and  courteous  to  this  gentleman  ; 
Hop  in  his  walks  and  gambol  in  his  eyes ; 
Feed  him  with  apricocks  and  dewberries, 
With  purple  grapes,  green  figs,  and  mulberries ; 
The  honey-bags  steal  from  the  humble-bees, 
And  for  night-tapers  crop  their  waxen  thighs 
And  light  them  at  the  fiery  glow-worm's  eyes, 
To  have  my  love  to  bed  and  to  arise ; 
And  pluck  the  wings  from  painted  butterflies 
To  fan  the  moonbeams  from  his  sleeping  eyes : 
Nod  to  him,  elves,  and  do  him  courtesies. 


---^ 


sc.  I.     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM        6$ 

Peaseblossom. 
Hail,  mortal ! 

Cobweb. 
Hail! 

Moth. 
Hail! 

MUSTARDSEED. 

Hail! 

Bottom. 
I  cry  your  worships 
mercy,     heartily :    I 
beseech    your    wor- 
ship's name. 

Cobweb. 

Cobweb. 

Bottom. 

I  shall  desire  you  of  more  acquaintance,  good  Master 
Cobweb :  if  I  cut  my  finger,  I  shall  make  bold  with 
you.     Your  name,  honest  gentleman  ? 


Peaseblossom. 
Peaseblossom. 

Bottom. 
I   pray  you,  commend  me  to  Mistress  Squash,  your 
mother,  and  to  Master  Peascod,  your  father.     Good 
Master    Peaseblossom,    I    shall   desire   you    of  more 
acquaintance  too.     Your  name,  I  beseech  you,  sir  ? 


64     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     act  hi. 

MUSTARDSEED. 

Mustardseed. 

Bottom. 

Good  Master  Mustardseed,  I  know  your  patience 
well :  that  same  cowardly,  giant-like  ox-beef  hath 
devoured  many  a  gentleman  of  your  house  :  I  promise 
you  your  kindred  hath  made  my  eyes  water  ere  now. 
I  desire  your  more  acquaintance,  good  Master 
Mustardseed. 

TiTANIA. 

Come,  wait  upon  him  ;  lead  him  to  my  bower. 
The  moon  methinks  looks  with  a  watery  eye ; 
And  when  she  weeps,  weeps  every  little  flower. 
Lamenting  some  enforced  chastity. 
Tie  up  my  love's  tongue,  bring  him  silently.  \ExeunL 


Scene  II 

Another  part  of  the  wood. 

Enter  Oberon. 

Oberon. 
I  wonder  if  Titania  be  awaked  ; 
Then,  what  it  was  that  next  came  in  her  eye, 
Which  she  must  dote  on  in  extremity. 

Enter  Puck. 
Here  comes  my  messenger. 

How  now,  mad  spirit 
What  night-rule  now  about  this  haunted  grove  ? 

Puck. 

My  mistress  with  a  monster  is  in  love. 

Near  to  her  close  and  consecrated  bower, 

While  she  was  in  her  dull  and  sleeping  hour, 

A  crew  of  patches,  rude  mechanicals. 

That  work  for  bread  upon  Athenian  stalls, 

Were  met  together  to  rehearse  a  play 

Intended  for  great  Theseus*  nuptial-day. 

The  shallowest  thick-skin  of  that  barren  sort, 

Who  Pyramus  presented,  in  their  sport 

Forsook  his  scene  and  enter'd  in  a  brake : 

When  I  did  him  at  this  advantage  take, 

An  ass's  nole  I  fixed  on  his  head  : 

Anon  his  Thisbe  must  be  answered. 

And  forth  my  mimic  comes.     When  they  him  spy. 

As  wild  geese  that  the  creeping  fowler  eye, 

E 


66    A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM    act  hi. 

Or  russet-pated  choughs,  many  in  sort, 

Rising  and  cawing  at  the  gun's  report, 

Sever  themselves  and  madly  sweep  the  sky, 

So,  at  his  sight,  away  his  fellows  fly ; 

And,  at  our  stamp,  here  o'er  and  o'er  one  falls  ; 

He  murder  cries  and  help  from  Athens  calls. 

Their  sense  thus  weak,  lost  with  their  fears  thus  strong. 

Made  senseless  things  begin  to  do  them  wrong ; 

For  briers  and  thorns  at  their  apparel  snatch ; 

Some  sleeves,  some  hats,  from  yielders  all  things  catch. 

I  led  them  on  in  this  distracted  fear, 

And  left  sweet  Pyramus  translated  there : 

When  in  that  moment,  so  it  came  to  pass, 

Titania  waked  and  straightway  loved  an  ass. 

Oberon. 
This  falls  out  better  than  I  could  devise. 
But  hast  thou  yet  latch'd  the  Athenian's  eyes 
With  the  love-juice,  as  I  did  bid  thee  do  ? 

Puck. 
I  took  him  sleeping, — that  is  finish'd  too, — 
And  the  Athenian  woman  by  his  side ; 
That,  when  he  waked,  of  force  she  must  be  eyed. 

Enter  Hermia  and  Demetrius. 

Oberon. 
Standclose :  this  is  the  same  Athenian. 


sc.  II.     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM       67 

Puck. 
This  is  the  woman,  but  not  this  the  man. 

Demetrius. 
O,  why  rebuke  you  him  that  loves  you  so  ? 
Lay  breath  so  bitter  on  your  bitter  foe. 

Hermia. 
Now  I  but  chide  ;  but  I  should  use  thee  worse, 
For  thou,  I  fear,  hast  given  me  cause  to  curse. 
If  thou  hast  slain  Lysander  in  his  sleep, 
Being  o'er  shoes  in  blood,  plunge  in  the  deep, 
And  kill  me  too. 

The  sun  was  not  so  true  unto  the  day 
As  he  to  me  :  would  he  have  stolen  away 
From  sleeping  Hermia  ?     I  '11  believe  as  soon 
This  whole  earth  may  be  bored  and  that  the  moon 
May  through  the  centre  creep  and  so  displease 
Her  brother's  noontide  with  the  Antipodes. 
It  cannot  be  but  thou  hast  murder'd  him  ; 
So  should  a  murderer  look,  so  dead,  so  grim. 

Dbmbtrius. 
So  should  the  murder'd  look,  a»d  so  should  I, 
Pierced  through  the  heart  with  your  stern  cruelty  : 
Yet  you,  the  murderer,  look  as  bright,  as  clear, 
As  yonder  Venus  in  her  glimmering  sphere. 


68     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM      act  hi. 

Hermia. 
What's  this  to  my  Lysander  ?  where  is  he  ? 
Ah,  good  Demetrius,  wilt  thou  give  him  me  ? 

Demetrius. 
I  had  rather  give  his  carcass  to  my  hounds. 

Hermia. 
Out,  dog  !  out,  cur  !  thou  drivest  me  past  the  bounds 
Of  maiden's  patience.     Hast  thou  slain  him,  then  ? 
Henceforth  be  never  number'd  among  men ! 
O,  once  tell  true,  tell  true,  even  for  my  sake  ! 
Durst  thou  have  look'd  upon  him  being  awake. 
And  hast  thou  kill'd  him  sleeping  ?     O  brave  touch ! 
Could  not  a  worm,  an  adder,  do  so  much  ? 
An  adder  did  it ;  for  with  doubler  tongue 
Than  thine,  thou  serpent,  never  adder  stung. 

Demetrius. 
You  spend  your  passion  on  a  misprised  mood : 
I  am  not  guilty  of  L}  Sander's  blood  ; 
Nor  is  he  dead,  for  aught  that  I  can  tell. 

Hermia. 
I  pray  thee,  tell  me  then  that  he  is  well. 

Demetrius. 
An  if  I  could,  what  should  I  get  therefore  ? 


sc.  ir.      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHrS  DREAM       69 

Hermia. 
A  privilege  never  to  see  me  more. 
And  from  thy  hated  presence  part  I  so  : 
See  me  no  more,  whether  he  be  dead  or  no.       [£Ur//. 

Demetrius. 
There  is  no  following  her  in  this  fierce  vein  : 
Here  therefore  for  a  while  I  will  remain. 
So  sorrow's  heaviness  doth  heavier  grow 
For  debt  that  bankrupt  sleep  doth  sorrow  owe  ; 
Which  now  in  some  slight  measure  it  will  pay, 
If  for  his  tender  here  I  make  some  stay. 

[Lies  down  and  sleeps. 

Oberon. 
What  hast  thou  done  }  thou  hast  mistaken  quite 
And  laid  the  love-juice  on  some  true-love's  sight : 
Of  thy  misprision  must  perforce  ensue 
Some  true  love  turn'd  and  not  a  false  tum'd  true. 

Puck. 
Then  fate  o'er-rules,  that,  one  man  holding  troth, 
A  million  fail,  confounding  oath  on  oath. 

Oberon. 

About  the  wood  go  swifter  than  the  wind, 

And  Helena  of  Athens  look  thou  find  : 

All  fancy-sick  she  is  and  pale  of  cheer. 

With  s'ghs  of  love,  that  costs  the  fresh  blood  dear: 


70    A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM    act  hi. 

By  some  illusion  see  thou  bring  her  here  : 
I  '11  charm  his  eyes  against  she  do  appear. 

Puck. 
I  go,  I  go ;  look  how  I  go, 
Swifter  than  arrow  from  the  Tartar's  bow.  \_BxiL 

Oberon. 
Flower  of  this  purple  dye, 
Hit  with  Cupid's  archery, 
Sink  in  apple  of  his  eye. 
When  his  love  he  doth  espy, 
Let  her  shine  as  gloriously 
As  the  Venus  of  the  sky. 
When  thou  wakest,  if  she  be  by, 
Beg  of  her  for  remedy. 

Re-enter  Puck. 

Puck. 
Captain  of  our  fairy  band, 
Helena  is  here  at  hand  ; 
And  the  youth,  mistook  by  me. 
Pleading  for  a  lover's  fee. 
Shall  we  their  fond  pageant  see  ? 
Lord,  what  fools  these  mortals  be 

Oberon. 

Stand  aside  :  the  noise  they  make 
Will  cause  Demetrius  to  awake. 


SC.-II.      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM       71 

Puck. 

Then  will  two  at  once  woo  one  ; 
That  must  needs  be  sport  alone  ; 
And  those  things  do  best  please  me 
That  befal  preposterously. 

Enter  Lysander  and  Helena. 

Lysander. 
Why  should  you  think  that  I  should  woo  in  scorn  ? 

Scorn  and  derision  never  come  in  tears : 
Look,  when  I  vow,  I  weep  ;  and  vows  so  born, 

In  their  nativity  all  truth  appears. 
How  can  these  things  in  me  seem  scorn  to  you, 
Bearing  the  badge  of  faith,  to  prove  them  true  ? 

Helena. 
You  do  advance  your  cunning  more  and  more. 

When  truth  kills  truth,  O  devilish-holy  fray ! 
These  vows  are  Hermia's :  will  you  give  her  o'er? 

Weigh  oath  with  oath,  and  you  will  nothing"  weigh : 
Your  vows  to  her  and  me,  put  in  two  scales, 
Will  even  weigh,  and  both  as  light  as  tales. 

Lysander. 
I  had  no  judgement  when  to  her  I  swore. 

Helena. 
Nor  none,  in  my  mind,  now  you  give  her  o'er. 


72     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     actiii. 

Lysander. 
Demetrius  loves  her,  and  he  loves  not  you. 

Demetrius. 
\_Awaktno'']  O  Helen,  goddess,  nymph,  perfect,  divine ! 
To  what,  my  love,  shall  I  compare  thine  eyne  ? 
Crystal  is  muddy.     O,  how  ripe  in  show 
Thy  lips,  those  kissing  cherries,  tempting  grow ! 
That  pure  congealed  white,  high  Taurus'  snow, 
Fann'd  with  the  eastern  wind,  turns  to  a  crow 
When  thou  hold'st  up  thy  hand :     O,  let  me  kiss 
This  princess  of  pure  white,  this  seal  of  bliss  ! 

Helena. 
O  spi!e !  O  hell !  I  see  you  all  are  bent 
To  set  against  me  for  your  merriment : 
If  you  were  civil  and  knew  courtesy, 
You  would  not  do  me  thus  much  injury.  , 

Can  you  not  hate  me,  as  I  know  you  do, 
But  you  must  join  in  souls  to  mock  me  too  ? 
If  you  were  men,  as  men  you  are  in  show, 
You  would  not  use  a  gentle  lady  so  ; 
To  vow,  and  swear,  and  superpraise  my  parts, 
When  I  am  sure  you  hate  me  with  your  hearts. 
You  both  are  rivals,  and  love  Hermia  ; 
And  now  both  rivals,  to  mock  Helena  : 
A  trim  exploit,  a  manly  enterprise, 
To  conjure  tears  up  in  a  poor  maid's  eyes 
With  your  derision  !  none  of  noble  sort 


sc.  II.      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM       73 

Would  so  offend  a  virgin  and  extort 

A  poor  soul's  patience,  all  to  make  you  sport. 

Lysander 
You  are  unkind,  Demetrius  ;  be  not  so  ; 
For  you  love  Hermia  ;  this  you  know  I  know  : 
And  here,  with  all  good  will,  with  all  my  heart. 
In  Hermia's  love  I  yield  you  up  my  part ; 
And  yours  of  Helena  to  me  bequeath, 
Whom  I  do  love  and  will  do  till  my  death. 

Helena. 
Never  did  mockers  waste  more  idle  breath. 

Demetrius. 

Lysander,  keep  thy  Hermia  ;  I  will  none : 

If  e'er  I  loved  her,  all  that  love  is  gone. 

My  heart  to  her  but  as  guest-wise  sojourn'd, 

And  now  to  Helen  is  it  home  return'd, 

There  to  remain. 

Lysander. 

Helen,  it  is  not  so. 

Demetrius. 
Disparage  not  the  faith  thou  dost  not  know, 
Lest,  to  thy  peril,  thou  aby  it  dear. 
Look,  where  thy  love  comes  ;  yonder  is  thy  dear. 

Re-enter  Hermia. 
Hermia. 
Dark  night,  that  from  the  eye  his  function  takes. 


74    A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     act  hi. 

The  ear  more  quick  of  apprehension  makes  ; 
Wherein  it  doth  impair  the  seeing  sense, 
It  pays  the  hearing  double  recompense. 
Thou  art  not  by  mine  eye,  Lysander,  found  ; 
Mine  ear,  I  thank  it,  brought  me  to  thy  sound. 
But  why  unkindly  didst  thou  leave  me  so  ? 

Lysander. 
Why  should  he  stay,  whom  love  doth  press  to  go  ? 

Hermia. 
What  love  could  press  Lysander  from  my  side  ? 

Lysander. 
Lysander  s  love,  that  would  not  let  him  bide, 
Fair  Helena,  who  more  engilds  the  night 
Than  all  yon  fiery  oes  and  eyes  of  light. 
Why  seek'st  thou  me  ?  could  not  this  make  thee  know, 
The  hate  I  bear  thee  made  me  leave  thee  so  } 

Hermia. 
You  speak  not  as  you  think :  it  cannot  be. 

Helena. 

Lo,  she  is  one  of  this  confederacy  ! 

Now  I  perceive  they  have  conjoin'd  all  three 

To  fashion  this  false  sport,  in  spite  of  me. 

Injurious  Hermia!  most  ungrateful  maid! 

Have  you  conspired,  have  you  with  these  contrived 

To  bait  me  with  this  foul  derision  ? 


sc.  ir.      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM      75 

Is  all  the  counsel  that  we  two  have  shared, 

The  sisters'  vows,  the  hours  that  we  have  spent, 

When  we  have  chid  the  hasty-footed  time 

For  parting  us, — O,  is  it  all  forgot  ? 

All  school-days'  friendship,  childhood  innocence  ? 

We,  Hermia,  like  two  artificial  gods, 

Have  with  our  needles  created  both  one  flower, 

Both  on  one  sampler,  sitting  on  one  cushion, 

Both  warbling  of  one  song,  both  in  one  key, 

As  if  our  hands,  our  sides,  voices  and  minds, 

Had  been  incorporate.     So  we  grew  together, 

Like  to  a  double  cherry,  seeming  parted. 

But  yet  an  union  in  partition ; 

Two  lovely  berries  moulded  on  one  stem ; 

So,  with  two  seeming  bodies,  but  one  heart ; 

Two  of  the  first,  like  coats  in  heraldry, 

Due  but  to  one  and  crowned  with  one  crest. 

And  will  you  rent  our  ancient  love  asunder. 

To  join  with  men  in  scorning  your  poor  friend  ? 

It  is  not  friendly,  'tis  not  maidenly: 

Our  sex,  as  well  as  I,  may  chide  you  for  it, 

Though  I  alone  do  feel  the  injury. 

Hermia. 
I  am  amazed  at  your  passionate  words. 
I  scorn  you  not :  it  seems  that  you  scorn  me. 

Helena. 
Have  you  not  set  Lysander,  as  in  scorn, 


76     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     act  hi. 

To  follow  me  and  praise  my  eyes  and  face  ? 

And  made  your  other  love,  Demetrius, 

Who  even  but  now  did  spurn  me  with  his  foot, 

To  call  me  goddess,  nymph,  divine  and  rare, 

Precious,  celestial  ?     Wherefore  speaks  he  this 

To  her  he  hates  ?  and  wherefore  doth  Lysander 

Deny  your  love,  so  rich  within  his  soul, 

And  tender  me,  forsooth,  affection, 

But  by  your  setting  on,  by  your  consent  ? 

What  though  I  be  not  so  in  grace  as  you, 

So  hung  upon  with  love,  so  fortunate. 

But  miserable  most,  to  love  unloved? 

This  you  should  pity  rather  than  despise. 

Hermia. 
I  understand  not  what  you  mean  by  this. 

Helena.' 
Ay,  do,  persever,  counterfeit  sad  looks, 
Make  mouths  upon  me  when  I  turn  my  back ; 
Wink  each  at  other  ;  hold  the  sweet  jest  up: 
This  sport,  well  carried,  shall  be  chronicled. 
If  you  have  any  pity,  grace,  or  manners. 
You  would  not  make  me  such  an  argument. 
But  fare  ye  well :  'tis  partly  my  own  fault ; 
Which  death  or  absence  soon  shall  remedy. 

Lysander. 
Stay,  gentle  Helena;  hear  my  excuse: 
My  love,  my  life,  my  soul,  fair  Helena^ 


sc.  II.      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM       77 

Helena. 

0  excellent ! 

Hermia. 
Sweet,  do  not  scorn  her  so. 

Demetrius. 
If  she  cannot  entreat,  I  can  compel. 

Lysander. 
Thou  canst  compel  no  more  than  she  entreat: 
Thy  threats  have  no  more  strength  than  her  weak 

prayers. 
Helen,  I  love  thee;  by  my  life,  I  do :    / 

1  swear  by  that  which  I  will  lose  for  thee. 
To  prove  him  false  that  says  I  love  thee  not. 

Demetrius. 
I  say  I  love  thee  more  than  he  can  do. 

Lysander. 
If  thou  say  so,  withdraw,  and  prove  it  too, 

Demetrius. 


Quick,  come ! 


Hermia. 
Lysander,  whereto  tends  all  this  ? 


Lysander. 
Away,  you  Ethiope! 


78     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     act  hi. 

Demetrius. 
No,  no  ;  he  'II  .  .  . 
Seem  to  break  loose  ;  take  on  as  you  would  follow, 
But  yet  come  not :  you  are  a  tame  man,  go  ! 

Lysander. 
Hang  off,  thou  cat,  thou  burr !  vile  thing,  let  loose, 
Or  I  will  shake  thee  from  me  like  a  serpent ! 

Hermia. 
Why  are  you  grown  so  rude  ?  what  change  is  this  ? 
Sweet  love, — 

Lysander. 
Thy  love !  out,  tawny  Tartar,  out ! 
Out,  loathed  medicine  !  hated  potion,  hence  ! 

Hermia. 
Do  you  not  jest  ? 

Helena. 
Yes,  sooth  ;  and  so  do  you. 

Lysander. 
Demetrius,  I  will  keep  my  word  with  thee. 

Demetrius. 
I  would  I  had  your  bond,  for  I  perceive 
A  weak  bond  holds  you :  I'  11  not  trust  your  word. 


sc.  11.     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM      79 

Lysander. 
What,  should  I  hurt  her,  strike  her,  kill  her  dead  ? 
Although  I  hate  her,  I'll  not  harm  her  so. 

Hermia. 
What,  can  you  do  me  greater  harm  than  hate  ?  , 
Hate  me  !  wherefore  ?  O  me  !  what  news,  my  love ! 
Am  not  I  Hermia?  are  not  you  Lysander? 
I  am  as  fair  now  as  I  was  erewhile. 
Since  night  you  loved  me  ;  yet  since  night  you  left 

me: 
Why,  then  you  left  me — O,  the  gods  forbid ! — 
In  earnest,  shall  I  say? 

Lysander. 

Ay,  by  my  life ; 
And  never  did  desire  to  see  thee  more. 
Therefore  be  out  of  hope,  of  question,  of  doubt ; 
Be  certain,  nothing  truer ;  'tis  no  jest 
That  I  do  hate  thee  and  love  Helena. 

Hermia. 
O  me !  you  juggler  !  you  canker-blossom  ! 
You  thief  of  love !  what,  have  you  come  by  night 
And  stolen  my  love's  heart  from  him  ? 

Helena. 

Fine,  i'faith! 
Have  you  no  modesty,  no  maiden  shame, 


8o    A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     act  hi. 

No  touch  of  bashfulness  ?     What,  will  you  tear 
Impatient  answers  from  my  gentle  tongue  ? 
Fie,  fie  !  you  counterfeit,  you  puppet,  you ! 

Hermia. 
Puppet  ?  why  so  ?  ay,  that  way  goes  the  game. 
Now  I  perceive  that  she  hath  made  compare 
Between  our  statures  ;  she  hath  urged  her  height ; 
And  with  her  personage,  her  tall  personage. 
Her  height,  forsooth,  she  hath  prevail'd  with  him. 
And  are  you  grown  so  high  in  his  esteem, 
Because  I  am  so  dwarfish  and  so  low  ? 
How  low  am  I,  thou  painted  maypole  ?  speak  ; 
How  low  am  I  ?  I  am  not  yet  so  low 
But  that  my  nails  can  reach  unto  thine  eyes. 


Helena. 
I  pray  you,  though  you  mock  me,  gentlemen, 
Let  her  not  hurt  me  :  I  was  never  curst ; 
I  have  no  ofift  at  all  in  shrewishness  : 
I  am  a  right  maid  for  my  cowardice  : 
Let  her  not  strike  me.     You  perhaps  may  think. 
Because  she  is  something  lower  than  myself, 
That  I  can  match  her. 

Hermia, 
Lower!  hark,  again. 


sc.  II.      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM      8i 

Helena. 
Good  Hermia,  do  not  be  so  bitter  with  me. 
I  evermore  did  love  you,  Hermia, 
Did  ever  keep  your  counsels,  never  wrong'd  you ; 
Save  that,  in  love  unto  Demetrius, 
I  told  him  of  your  stealth  unto  this  wood. 
He  follow 'd  you  ;  for  love  I  follow'd  him  ; 
But  he  hath  chid  me  hence  and  threaten'd  me 
To  strike  me,  spurn  me,  nay,  to  kill  me  too : 
And  now,  so  you  will  let  me  quiet  go, 
To  Athens  will  I  bear  my  folly  back 
And  follow  you  no  further  :  let  me  go  : 
You  see  how  simple  and  how  fond  I  am. 

Hermia. 
Why,  get  you  gone  :  who  is't  that  hinders  you  ? 

Helena. 
A  foolish  heart,  that  I  leave  here  behind. 

Hermia. 
What,  with  Lysander? 

Helena. 

With  Demetrius. 

Lysander. 
Be  not  afraid  ;  she  shall  not  harm  thee,  Helena 

Demetrius. 
No,  sir,  she  shall  not,  though  you  take  her  part 


82     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     actiii. 

Helena; 
O,  when  she's  angry,  she  is  keen  and  shrewd  I 
She  was  a  vixen  when  she  went  to  school ; 
And  though  she  be  but  little,  she  is  fierce. 

Hermia. 
*  Little '  again !  nothing  but  '  low  '  and  *  little ' ! 
Why  will  you  suffer  her  to  flout  me  thus  ? 
Let  me  come  to  her. 

Lysandkr. 

Get  you  gone,  you  dwarf ; 
You  minimus,  of  hindering  knot-grass  made  ; 
You  bead,  you  acorn. 

Demetrius. 
You  are  too  officious 
In  her  behalf  that  scorns  your  services. 
Let  her  alone  :  speak  not  of  Helena  ; 
Take  not  her  part ;  for,  if  thou  dost  intend 
Never  so  little  show  of  love  to  her. 
Thou  shalt  aby  it. 

Lysander. 

Now  she  holds  me  not ; 
Now  follow,  if  thou  darest,  to  try  whose  right, 
Of  thine  or  mine,  is  most  in  Helena. 

Demetrius. 
Follow  1  nay,  I  '11  go  with  thee,  cheek  by  jole. 

[Exeunt  Lysander  and  Demetrius. 


sc.  II.      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM       83 

Hermia. 

You,  mistress,  all  this  coil  is  'long  of  you :  Nay,  go 
not  back. 

Helena. 
I  will  not  trust  you,  I, 
Nor  longer  stay  in  your  curst  company. 
Your  hands  than  mine  are  quicker  for  a  fray, 
My  legs  are  longer  though,  to  run  away.  [Exit. 

Hermia. 
I  am  amazed,  and  know  not  what  to  say,  [Exit. 

Oberon. 
This  is  thy  negligence  :  still  thou  mistakest, 
Or  else  committ'st  thy  knaveries  wilfully. 

Puck. 
Believe  me,  king  of  shadows,  I  mistook. 
Did  not  you  tell  me  I  should  know  the  man 
By  the  Athenian  garment  he  had  on  ? 
And  so  far  blameless  proves  my  enterprise, 
That  I  have  'nointed  an  Athenian's  eyes ; 
And  so  far  am  I  glad  it  so  did  sort 
As  this  their  jangling  I  esteem  a  sport 

Oberon. 
Thou  see'st  these  lovers  seek  a  place  to  fight : 
Hie  therefore,  Robin,  overcast  the  night ; 


84    A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM    act  hi. 

The  starry  welkin  cover  thou  anon 

With  drooping  fog  as  black  as  Acheron, 

And  lead  these  testy  rivals  so  astray 

As  one  come  not  within  another's  way. 

Like  to  Lysander  sometime  frame  thy  tongue, 

Then  stir  Demetrius  up  with  bitter  wrong ; 

And  sometime  rail  thou  like  Demetrius  ; 

And  from  each  other  look  thou  lead  them  thus, 

Till  o'er  their  brows  death-counterfeiting  sleep 

With  leaden  legs  and  batty  wings  doth  creep : 

Then  crush  this  herb  into  Lysander's  eye ; 

Whose  liquor  hath  this  virtuous  property, 

To  take  from  thence  all  error  with  his  might, 

And  make  his  eyeballs  roll  with  wonted  sight. 

When  they  next  wake,  all  this  derision 

Shall  seem  a  dream  and  fruitless  vision. 

And  back  to  Athens  shall  the  lovers  wend, 

With  league  whose  date  till  death  shall  never  end. 

Whiles  I  in  this  affair  do  thee  employ, 

I'll  to  my  queen  and  beg  her  Indian  boy  ; 

And  then  I  will  her  charmed  eye  release 

From  monster's  view,  and  all  things  shall  be  peace. 


Puck. 
My  fairy  lord,  this  must  be  done  with  haste. 
For  night's  swift  dragons  cut  the  clouds  full  fast, 
And  yonder  shines  Aurora's  harbinger  ; 
At  whose  approach,  ghosts,  wandering  here  and  there. 


sc.  II.      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM 

Troop  home  to  churchyards  :  damned  spirits  all, 

That  in  crossways  and  floods  have  burial. 

Already  to  their  wormy  beds  are  gone  ; 

For  fear  lest  day  should  look  their  shames  upon, 

They  wilfully  themselves  exile  from  light 

And  must  for  aye  consort  with  black-brow'd  night 

Oberon. 
But  we  are  spirits  of  another  sort : 
I  with  the  morning's  love  have  oft  made  sport, 
And,  like  a  forester,  the  groves  may  tread, 
Even  till  the  eastern  gate,  all  fiery-red, 
Opening  on  Neptune  with  fair  blessed  beams. 


8J 


86    A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM      act  hi. 

V 

Turns  Into  yellow  gold  his  salt  green  streams. 

But,  notwithstanding,  haste  ;  make  no  delay  : ' 

We  may  effect  this  business  yet  ere  day.  [£xz^. 

Puck. 
Up  and  down,  up  and  down, 
I  will  lead  them  up  and  down : 
I  am  fear'd  in  field  and  town : 
Goblin,  lead  them  up  and  down. 
Here  comes  one. 

Re-enter  Lysander. 

Lysander. 
Where  art  thou,  proud  Demetrius  ?  speak  thou  now. 

Puck. 
Here,  villain  ;  drawn  and  ready.     Where  art  thou  ? 

Lysander. 
I  will  be  with  thee  straight. 

Puck. 

Follo^y  me,  then, 
To  plainer  ground. 

\Exit  Lysander,  as  following  the  voice. 


sc.  II.      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM      87 
Re-enter  Demetrius. 

Demetrius. 

Lysander !  speak  again : 
Thou  runaway,  thou  coward,  art  thou  fled  ? 
Speak!  In  some  bush?     Where  dost  thou  hide  thy 
head? 

Puck. 
Thou  coward,  art  thou  bragging  to  the  stars, 
Telling  the  bushes  that  thou  look'st  for  wars. 
And  wilt  not  come  ?    Come,   recreant ;  come,   thou 

child ;  « 

I'll  whip  thee  with  a  rod  :  he  is  defiled 
That  draws  a  sword  on  thee. 

Demetrius. 

Yea,  art  thou  there  ? 

Puck. 
Follow  my  voice :  we'll  try  no  manhood  here.  \Exeunt. 

Re-enter  Lysander.^ 

Lysander. 
He  goes  before  me  and  still  dares  me  on ; 
When  I  come  where  he  calls,  then  he  is  gone. 
The  villain  is  much  lighter-heel'd  than  I : 
I  follow'd  fast,  but  faster  he  did  fly  ; 


88    A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     act  hi. 

That  fallen  am  I  in  dark  uneven  way, 

And  here  will   rest   me.     \^Lies  down.']  Come,  thou 

gentle  day ! 
For  if  but  once  thou  show  me  thy  grey  light, 
I'll  find  Demetrius  and  revenge  this  spite.         [Sleeps. 

Re-enter  Puck  and  Demetrius. 

Puck. 
Ho  !  ho !  ho !     Coward,  why  comest  thou  not  1 

Demetrius. 
Abide  me,  if  thou  darest ;  for  well  I  wot 
Thou  runn'st  before  me,  shifting  every  place. 
And  darest  not  stand,  nor  look  me  in  the  face. 
Where  art  thou  now  ? 

Puck. 
Come  hither :   I  am  here. 

Demetrius. 
Nay,  then,  thou  mock'st  me.     Thou  shalt  buy  this 

dear. 
If  ever  I  thy  face  by  daylight  see  : 
Now,  go  thy  way.     Faintness  constraineth  me 
To  measure  out  my  length  on  this  cold  bed. 
By  day's  approach  look  to  be  visited. 

\Lies  down  and  sleeps. 


sc.  II.      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM      89 
Re-enter  Helena. 

Helena. 

0  weary  night,  O  long  and  tedious  night, 

Abate  thy  hours  !  Shine  comforts  from  the  east, 
That  I  may  back  to  Athens  by  daylight, 

From  these  that  my  poor  company  detest : 
And  sleep,  that  sometimes  shuts  up  sorrow's  eye, 
Steal  me  awhile  from  mine  own  company. 

\Lies  down  and  sleeps. 

Puck. 
Yet  but  three  ?     Come  one  more  ; 
Two  of  both  kinds  makes  up  four. 
Here  she  comes,  curst  and  sad: 
Cupid  is  a  knavish  lad, 
Thus  to  make  poor  females  mad. 

Re-enter  Hermia. 

Hermia. 

Never  so  weary,  never  so  in  woe. 

Bedabbled  with  the  dew  and  torn  with  briers, 

1  can  no  further  crawl,  no  further  go  ; 

My  legs  can  keep  no  pace  with  my  desires. 
Here  will  I  rest  me  till  the  break  of  day. 
Heavens  shield  Lysander,  if  they  mean  a  fray  ! 

\Lies  down  and  sleep $• 


90    A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     act  hi. 

Puck. 
On  the  ground 
Sleep  sound : 
I'll  apply 
To  your  eye, 
Gentle  lover,  remedy. 
[Squeezing-  the  juice  on  Lysander's  eyes. 
When  thou  wakest, 
Thou  takest 
True  delight 
In  the  sight 
Of  thy  former  lady's  eye  : 
And  the  country  proverb  known, 
That  every  man  should  take  his  own, 
In  your  waking  be  shown  : 

Jack  shall  have  Jill ; 
Nought  shall  go  ill ; 
The  man  shall  have  his  mare  again,  and  all  shall  be 
well.  \Exit. 


ACT  IV. 
Scene  1 . 


The  same. 

Lysander,  Demetrius,  Helena,  and  Hermia 
lying  asleep. 

Enter  Titania  and  Bottom  ;  Peaseblossom, 
Cobweb,  Moth,  Mustardseed,  and  other 
Fairies  attending  ;  Oberon  behind  unseen. 

TiTANIA. 

Come,  sit  thee  down  upon  this  flowery  bed, 

While  I  thy  amiable  cheeks  do  coy, 
And  stick  musk-roses  in  thy  sleek  smooth  head, 

And  kiss  thy  fair  large  ears,  my  gentle  joy. 

92 


sc.  I.      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM       93 

Bottom. 
Where's  Peaseblossom  ? 


Peaseblossom. 
Ready. 

Bottom. 
Scratch  my  head,  Peaseblossom.     Where's  Mounsieur 
Cobweb  ? 

Cobweb. 
Ready.  ♦ 

Bottom. 
Mounsieur  Cobweb,  good  mounsieur,  get  you  your 
weapons  in  your  hand,  and  kill  me  a  red-hipped  humble- 
bee  on  the  top  of  a  thistle;  and,  good  mounsieur, 
bring  me  the  honey-bag.  Do  not  fret  yourself  too 
much  in  the  action,  mounsieur ;  and,  good  mounsieur, 
have  a  care  the  honey-bag  break  not ;  I  would  be 
loath  to  have  you  overflown  with  a  honey-bag,  signior. 
Where's  Mounsieur  Mustardseed  ?  I 

MUSTARDSEED. 

Ready. 

Bottom. 
Give  me  your  neaf,  Mounsieur   Mustardseed.     Pray 
you,  leave  your  courtesy,  good  mounsieur. 


94     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM    act  iv. 

MUSTARDSEED, 

What's  your  will  ? 

Bottom. 
Nothing,  good  mounsleur,  but  to  help  Cavalery  Cobweb 
to  scratch.  I  must  to  the  barber's,  mounsleur  ;  for 
methinks  I  am  marvellous  hairy  about  the  face  ;  and  I 
am  such  a  tender  ass,  if  my  hair  do  but  tickle  me,  I 
must  scratch. 

Titan  lA. 
What,  wilt  thou  hear  some  music,  my  sweet  love  ? 

Bottom. 
I  have  a  reasonable  good  ear  in  music.     Let's  have 
the  tongs  and  the  bones. 

TiTANIA. 

Or  say,  sweet  love,  what  thou  desirest  to  eat. 

Bottom. 
Truly,  a  peck  of  provender :  I  could  munch  your  good 
dry  oats.     Methinks  I  have  a  great  desire  to  a  bottle 
of  hay :  good  hay,  sweet  hay,  hath  no  fellow. 

Titan  I  A. 
I  have  a  venturous  fairy  that  shall  seek 
The  squirrel's  hoard,  and  fetch  thee  new  nuts. 


sc.  I      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM        95 

Bottom. 
I   had  rather  have   a  handful  or  two  of  dried   peas. 
But,  I  pray  you,  let  none  of  your  people  stir  me ;  I 
have  an  exposition  of  sleep  come  upon  me. 

TiTANIA. 

Sleep  thou,  and  I  will  wind  thee  in  my  arms. 
Fairies,  be  gone,  and  be  all  ways  away. 

[Exeunt  Fairies. 
So  doth  the  woodbine  the  sweet  honeysuckle 
Gently  entwist ;  the  female  ivy  so 
Enrings  the  barky  fingers  of  the  elm. 
O,  how  I  love  thee !  how  I  dote  on  thee ! 

[Tkey  sleep. 

Enter  Puck. 

Oberon. 
\Advancing\  Welcome,  good  Robin.     See'st  thou  this 

sweet  sight? 
Her  dotage  now  I  do  begin  to  pity: 
For,  meeting  her  of  late  behind  the  wood. 
Seeking  sweet  favours  for  this  hateful  fool, 
I  did  upbraid  her  and  fall  out  with  her  ; 
For  she  his  hairy  temples  then  had  rounded 
With  coronet  of  fresh  and  fragrant  flowers  ; 
And  that  same  dew,  which  sometime  on  the  buds 
Was  wont  to  swell  like  round  and  orient  pearls, 


96    A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     act  iv. 

Stood  now  within  the  pretty  flowerets'  eyes 
Like  tears  that  did  their  own  disgrace  bewail. 
When  I  had  at  my  pleasure  taunted  her 
And  she  in  mild  terms  begg'd  my  patience, 
I  then  did  ask  of  her  her  changeling  child  ; 
Which  straight  she  gave  me,  and  her  fairy  sent 
To  bear  him  to  my  bower  in  fairy  land. 
And  now  I  have  the  boy,  I  will  undo 
This  hateful  imperfection  of  her  eyes  : 
And,  gentle  Puck,  take  this  transformed  scalp 
From  off  the  head  of  this  Athenian  swain ; 
That,  he  awaking  when  the  other  do, 
May  all  to  Athens  back  again  repair 
And  think  no  more  of  this  night's  accidents 
But  as  the  fierce  vexation  of  a  dream. 
But  first  I  will  release  the  fairy  queen. 

Be  as  thou  wast  wont  to  be ; 

See  as  thou  wast  wont  to  see : 

Dian's  bud  o'er  Cupid's  flower 

Hath  such  force  and  blessed  power. 
Now,  my  Titania  ;  wake  you,  my  sweet  queen. 

TiTANIA. 

My  Oberon !  what  visions  have  I  seen ! 
Methought  I  was  enamour'd  of  an  ass. 

Oberon. 
There  lies  your  love. 


/••'^V 


f 


sc.  I.     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM         97 

Titan  lA. 

How  came  these  things  to  pass  ? 
O,  how  mine  eyes  do  loathe  his  visage  now ! 

Oberon. 
Silence  awhile.     Robin,  take  off  this  head. 
Titania,  music  call ;  and  strike  more  dead 
Than  common  sleep  of  all  these  five  the  sense. 

Titania. 
Music,  ho !  music,  such  as  charmeth  sleep  I 

[^Afustc,  still. 

Puck. 
Now,  when  thou  wakest,  with  thine  own  fool's  eyes 
peep. 

Oberon. 

Sound,  music !     Come,  my  queen,  take  hands  with  me, 
And  rock  the  ground  whereon  these  sleepers  be. 
Now  thou  and  I  are  new  in  amity 
And  will  to-morrow  midnight  solemnly 
Dance  in  Duke  Theseus'  house  triumphantly 
And  bless  it  to  all  fair  prosperity  : 
There  shall  the  pairs  of  faithful  lovers  be 
Wedded,  with  Theseus,  all  in  jollity. 


Puck. 
Fairy  king,  attend,  and  mark  : 
I  do  hear  the  morning  lark. 


98      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM    act  iv. 

Oberon. 
Then,  my  queen,  in  silence  sad, 
Trip  we  after  the  night's  shade  : 
We  the  globe  can  compass  soon, 
Swifter  than  the  wandering  moon. 

TiTANIA. 

Come,  my  lord,  and  in  our  flight 
Tell  me  how  it  came  this  night 
That  I  sleeping  here  was  found 
With  these  mortals  on  the  ground. 

[Exeunt. 
[Horns  winded  within. 

JSnUr  ThesevSj  Hippolyta,  Egeus,  and  train. 

Theseus. 
Go,  one  of  you,  find  out  the  forester  ; 
For  now  our  observation  is  perform'd  ; 
And  since  we  have  the  vaward  of  the  day, 
My  love  shall  hear  the  music  of  my  hounds. 
Uncouple  in  the  western  valley ;  let  them  go  : 
Dispatch,  I  say,  and  find  the  forester. 

[Exit  an  Attendant. 
We  will,  fair  queen,  up  to  the  mountain's  top 
And  mark  the  musical  confusion 
Of  hounds  and  echo  in  conjunction. 


sc.  I.     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM        99 

HiPPOLYTA. 

I  was  with  Hercules  and  Cadmus  once, 
When  in  a  wood  of  Crete  they  bay'd  the  bear 
With  hounds  of  Sparta  :  never  did  I  hear 
Such  gallant  chiding  ;  for,  besides  the  groves, 
The  skies,  the  fountains,  every  region  near 
Seem'd  all  one  mutual  cry  :  I  never  heard 
So  musical  a  discord,  such  sweet  thunder. 


Theseus. 
My  hounds  are  bred  out  of  the  Spartan  kind, 
So  flew'd,  so  sanded,  and  their  heads  are  hung 
With  ears  that  sweep  away  the  morning  dew  ; 
Crook-knee'd,  and  dewlapp'd  like  Thessalian  bulls ; 
Slow  in  pursuit,  but  match'd  in  mouth  like  bells, 
Each  under  each.     A  cry  more  tuneable 
Was  never  holla'd  to,  nor  cheer'd  with  horn, 
In  Crete,  in  Sparta,  nor  in  Thessaly  : 
Judge  when  you  hear.     But,  soft !  what  nymphs  are 
these  ? 


Egeus. 
My  lord,  this  is  my  daughter  here  asleep ; 
And  this,  Lysander  ;  this  Demetrius  is  ; 
This  Helena,  old  Nedar's  Helena : 
I  wonder  of  their  being  here  together. 


loo    A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM  act  iv. 

Theseus. 
No  doubt  they  rose  up  early  to  observe 
The  rite  of  May,  and,  hearing  our  intent. 
Came  here  in  grace  of  our  solemnity. 
But  speak,  Egeus  ;  is  not  this  the  day 
That  Hermia  should  give  answer  of  her  choice  ? 

Egeus. 
It  is,  my  lord. 

Theseus. 
Go,  bid  the  huntsmen  wake  them  with  their  horns. 

[Horns  and  shout  within.     Lysander, 
Demetrius,  Helena,  «;2^ Hermia, 
wake  and  start  up. 
Good  morrow,  friends.     Saint  Valentine  is  past : 
Begin  these  wood-birds  but  to  couple  now  ? 


Lysander. 


Pardon,  my  lord. 


Theseus. 
I  pray  you  all,  stand  up, 
I  know  you  two  are  rival  enemies  : 
How  comes  this  gentle  concord  in  the  world, 
That  hatred  is  so  far  from  jealousy, 
To  sleep  by  hate,  and  fear  no  enmity  } 


sc.  I.     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM       loi 

Lysander. 
My  lord,  I  shall  reply  amazedly. 
Half  sleep,  half  waking  :  but  as  yet,  I  swear, 
I  cannot  truly  say  how  I  came  here  ; 
But,  as  I  think, — for  truly  would  I  speak. 
And  now  do  I  bethink  me,  so  it  is, — 
I  came  with  Hermia  hither  :  our  intent 
Was  to  be  gone  from  Athens,  where  we  might, 
Without  the  peril  of  the  Athenian  law. 

Egeus. 
Enough,  enough,  my  lord  ;  you  have  enough  : 
I  beg  the  law,  the  law,  upon  his  head. 
They  would  have  stolen  away  ;  they  would,  Demetrius, 
Thereby  to  have  defeated  you  and  me, 
You  of  your  wife  and  me  of  my  consent. 
Of  my  consent  that  she  should  be  your  wife. 

Demetrius. 
My  lord,  fair  Helen  told  me  of  their  stealth, 
Of  this  their  purpose  hither  to  this  wood ; 
And  I  in  fury  hither  follow'd  them, 
Fair  Helena  in  fancy  following  me. 
But,  my  good  lord,  I  wot  not  by  what  power, — 
But  by  some  power  it  is, — my  love  to  Hermia, 
Melted  as  the  snow,  seems  to  me  now 
As  the  remembrance  of  an  idle  gaud 
Which  in  my  childhood  I  did  dote  upon  ; 


102    A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM    act  iv. 

And  all  the  faith,  the  virtue  of  my  heart, 
The  object  and  the  pleasure  of  mine  eye 
Is  only  Helena.     To  her,  my  lord. 
Was  I  betroth'd  ere  I  saw  Hermia : 
But,  like  in  sickness,  did  I  loathe  this  food  ; 
But,  as  in  health,  come  to  my  natural  taste. 
Now  I  do  wish  it,  love  it,  long  for  it, 
And  will  for  evermore  be  true  to  it. 

Theseus. 
Fair  lovers,  you  are  fortunately  met : 
Of  this  discourse  we  more  will  hear  anon. 
Egeus,  I  will  overbear  your  will ; 
For  in  the  temple,  by  and  by,  with  us 
These  couples  shall  eternally  be  knit : 
And,  for  the  morning  now  is  something  worn, 
Our  purposed  hunting  shall  be  set  aside. 
Away  with  us  to  Athens ;  three  and  three, 
We'll  hold  a  feast  in  great  solemnity. 
Come,  Hippolyta.  [Exeunt  Theseus,  Hippolyta, 

Egeus,  and  train. 

Demetrius. 
These  things  seem  small  and  undistinguishable, 
Like  far-off  mountains  turned  into  clouds. 

Hermia. 
Methlnks  I  see  these  things  with  parted  eye, 
When  every  thing  seems  double. 


sc.  I.    A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM       103 

Helena. 

So  methinks  : 
And  I  have  found  Demetrius  like  a  jewel,  | 
Mine  own,  and  not  mine  own. 

Demetrius. 

Are  you  sure 
That  we  are  awake  ?     It  seems  to  me 
That  yet  we  sleep,  we  dream.     Do  not  you  think 
The  duke  was  here,  and  bid  us  follow  him  .•* 

Hermia. 
Yea ;  and  my  father. 

Helena. 

And  Hippolyta. 

Lysander, 
And  he  did  bid  us  follow  to  the  temple. 

Demetrius. 
Why,  then,  we  are  awake  :  let's  follow  him  ; 
And  by  the  way  let  us  recount  our  dreams.      [Bxeun^. 

Bottom. 

When  my  cue  comes,  call  me,  and  I  will  answer :  my 
next  is,  'Most  fair  Pyramus.'  Heigh-ho!  Peter 
Quince!      Flute,    the    bellows-mender  I     Snout,  the 


I04    A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM    act  iv. 

tinker !  Starveling  I  God's  my  life,  stolen  hence,  and 
left  me  asleep  !  I  have  had  a  most  vile  vision.  I  have 
had  a  dream,  past  the  wit  of  man  to  say  what  dream  it 
was  :  man  is  but  an  ass  if  he  go  about  to  expound  this 
dream.  Methought  I  was, — there  is  no  man  can  tell 
what.  Methought  I  was, — and  methought  I  had, — but 
man  is  but  a  patched  fool,  if  he  will  offer  to  say 
what  methought  I  had.  The  eye  of  man  hath  not 
heard,  the  ear  of  man  hath  not  seen,  man's  hand  is 
not  able  to  taste,  his  tongue  to  conceive,  nor  his  heart 
to  report,  what  my  dream  was.  I  will  get  Peter 
Quince  to  write  a  ballad  of  this  dream  :  it  shall  be  called 
Bottom's  Dream,  because  it  hath  no  bottom ;  and  I 
will  sing  it  in  the  latter  end  of  a  play,  before  the  duke  : 
peradventure,  to  make  it  the  more  gracious,  I  shall 
sing  it  at  her  death.  [^Bxzt. 


Scene  II 

Athens.     Quince's  house. 

Enter  Quince,  Flute,  Snout,  and  Starveling. 

Quince. 
Have  you  sent  to  Bottom's  house  ?  is  he  come  home 
yet  ? 

Starveling. 
He  cannot  be  heard  of.     Out  of  doubt  he  is  trans- 
ported. 

Flute. 

I  f  he  come  not,  then  the  play  is  marred  :  it  goes  not 
forward,  doth  it  ? 

1 06 


8c.  II.     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM      107 

Quince. 
It  is  not  possible  :  you  have  not  a  man  In  all  Athens 
able  to  discharge  Pyramus  but  he. 

Flute. 
No,  he  hath  simply  the  best  wit  of  any  handicraft  man 
in  Athens. 

Quince. 
Yea,    and   the  best  person   too ;    and  he  is   a   very 
paramour  for  a  sweet  voice. 

Flute. 
You  must  say  *  paragon :  *  a  paramour  is,  God  bless 
us,  a  thing  of  naught. 

Enter  Snug. 

Snug. 
Masters,   the   duke  is  coming  from  the  temple,    and 
there  is  two  or  three  lords  and  ladies  more  married : 
if  our  sport  had  gone  forward,  we  had  all  been  made 
men. 

Flute. 
O  sweet  bully  Bottom  !     Thus  hath  he  lost  sixpence  a 
day  during  his  life  ;  he  could  not  have  'scaped  six- 
pence a  day :  an  the  duke  had  not  given  him  sixpence 
a  day  for  playing  Pyramus,  I'll  be  hanged;  he  would 


io8     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM    act  iv. 

have  deserved  it :  sixpence  a  day  in  Pyramus,  or 
nothing. 

Enter  Bottom. 

Bottom. 
Where  are  these  lads  .-^  where  are  these  hearts  ? 

Quince. 
Bottom  !     O  most  courageous  day !     O  most  happy 
hour ! 

Bottom. 

Masters,  I  am  to  discourse  wonders :  but  ask  me  not 
what ;  for  if  I  tell  you,  I  am  no  true  Athenian.  I  will 
tell  you  every  thing,  right  as  it  fell  out. 

Quince. 
Let  us  hear,  sweet  Bottom. 

Bottom. 

Not  a  word  of  me.  All  that  I  will  tell  you  is,  that  the 
duke  hath  dined.  Get  your  apparel  together,  good 
strings  to  your  beards,  new  ribbons  to  your  pumps ; 
meet  presently  at  the  palace  ;  every  man  look  o'er  his 
part ;  for  the  short  and  the  long  is,  our  play  is 
preferred.     In  any  case,  let  Thisby  have  clean  linen  ; 


sc.  II.    A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM       109 

and  let  not  him  that  plays  the  lion  pare  his  nails,  for 
they  shall  hang  out  for  the  lion's  claws.  And,  most 
dear  actors,  eat  no  onions  nor  garlic,  for  we  are  to 
utter  sweet  breath ;  and  I  do  not  doubt  but  to  hear 
them  say,  it  is  a  sweet  comedy.  No  more  words : 
away  !  go,  away  !  [ExeutiL 


ACT  V. 

Scene  I  • 


Athens.     The  palace  of  Theseus. 
Enter  Theseus,  Hippolyta,  Philostrate,  Lords, 
and  Attendants. 

Hippolyta. 
'Tis  strange,  my  Theseus,  that  these  lovers  speak  of. 

Theseus. 
More  strange  than  true  :   I  never  may  believe 
These  antique  fables,  nor  these  fairy  toys. 
Lovers  and  madmen  have  such  seething  brains, 
Such  shaping  fantasies,  that  apprehend 
More  than  cool  reason  ever  comprehends. 
The  lunatic,  the  lover  and  the  poet 
Are  of  imagination  all  compact : 
One  sees  more  devils  than  vast  hell  can  hold, 
That  is,  the  madman :  the  lover,  all  as  frantic, 
Sees  Helen's  beauty  in  a  brow  of  Egypt : 

no 


SCI.     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHrS  DREAM       in 

The  poet's  eye,  in  a  fine  frenzy  rolling, 

Doth   glance   from  heaven  to  earth,  from   earth   to 

heaven  ; 
And  as  imagination  bodies  forth 
The  forms  of  things  unknown,  the  poet's  pen 
Turns  them  to  shapes  and  gives  to  airy  nothing 
A  local  habitation  and  a  name. 
Such  tricks  hath  strong  imagination, 
That,  if  it  would  but  apprehend  some  joy, 
It  comprehends  some  bringer  of  that  joy  ; 
Or  in  the  night,  imagining  some  fear, 
How  easy  is  a  bush  supposed  a  bear ! 

HiPPOLYTA. 

But  all  the  story  of  the  night  told  over, 
And  all  their  minds  transfigured  so  together, 
More  witnesseth  than  fancy's  images 
And  grows  to  something  of  great  constancy  ; 
But,  howsoever,  strange  and  admirable. 

Theseus. 
Here  come  the  lovers,  full  of  joy  and  mirth. 

Enter  Lysander,  Demetrius,  Hermia,  and 
Helena. 

Joy,  gentle  friends  !  joy  and  fresh  days  of  love 
Accompany  your  hearts ! 


112     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     act  v. 

Lysander. 

More  than  to  us 
Wait  in  your  royal  walks,  your  board,  your  bed ! 


Theseus. 
Come   now ;   what   masques,    what   dances   shall   we 

have, 
To  wear  away  this  long  age  of  three  hours 
Between  our  after-supper  and  bed-time  ? 
Where  is  our  usual  manager  of  mirth  ? 
What  revels  are  in  hand  ?     Is  there  no  play, 
To  ease  the  anguish  of  a  torturing  hour  ? 
Call  Philostrate. 

Philostrate. 
Here,  mighty  Theseus. 


Theseus. 
Say,  what  abridgement  have  you  for  this  evening  ? 
What  masque  ?  what  music  ?     How  shall  we  beguile 
The  lazy  time,  if  not  with  some  delight  ? 

Philostrate. 
There  is  a  brief  how  many  sports  are  ripe : 
Make  choice  of  which  your  highness  will  see  first. 

[Giving  a  paper. 


sc.  I.     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM       113 

Theseus. 
[Reads]  *  The  battle  with  the  Centaurs,  to  be  sung 
By  an  Athenian  eunuch  to  the  harp.' 
Well  none  of  that :  that  have  I  told  my  love, 
In  glory  of  my  kinsman  Hercules. 
[Reads]  *  The  riot  of  the  tipsy  Bacchanals, 
Tearing  the  Thracian  singer  in  their  rage.' 
That  is  an  old  device  ;  and  it  was  play'd 
When  I  from  Thebes  came  last  a  conqueror. 
[Reads]  *  The  thrice   three  Muses  mourning   for   the 

death 
Of  Learning,  late  deceased  in  beggary.' 
That  is  some  satire,  keen  and  critical, 
Not  sorting  with  a  nuptial  ceremony. 
[Reads]  'A  tedious  brief  scene  of  young  Pyramus 
And  his  love  Thisbe  ;  very  tragical  mirth.' 
Merry  and  tragical !  tedious  and  brief! 
That  is,  hot  ice  and  wondrous  strange  snow. 
How  shall  we  find  the  concord  of  this  discord  ? 

Philostrate. 
A  play  there  is,  my  lord,  some  ten  words  long, 
Which  is  as  brief  as  I  have  known  a  play ; 
But  by  ten  words,  my  lord,  it  is  too  long, 
Which  makes  it  tedious  ;  for  in  all  the  play 
There  is  not  one  word  apt,  one  player  fitted : 
And  tragical,  my  noble  lord,  it  is  ; 
For  Pyramus  therein  doth  kill  himself. 

H 


114    A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     act  v. 

Which,  when  I  saw  rehearsed,  I  must  confess, 
Made  mine  eyes  water  ;  but  more  merry  tears 
The  passion  of  loud  laughter  never  shed. 

Theseus. 
What  are  they  that  do  play  it  ? 

PhIL'OSTRATE. 

Hard-handed  men  that  work  in  Athens  here. 
Which  never  labour'd  in  their  minds  till  now. 
And  now  have  toil'd  their  unbreathed  memories 
With  this  same  play,  against  your  nuptial. 

Theseus. 
And  we  will  hear  it. 

Philostrate. 
No,  my  noble  lord  ; 
It  is  not  for  you  :  I  have  heard  it  over, 
And  it  is  nothing,  nothing  in  the  world ; 
Unless  you  can  find  sport  in  their  intents, 
Extremely  stretch'd  and  conn'd  with  cruel  pain, 
To  do  you  service. 

Theseus. 
I  will  hear  that  play  ; 
For  never  anything  can  be  amiss, 
When  simpleness  and  duty  tender  it. 
Go,  bring  them  in :  and  take  your  places,  ladies. 

l_£xil  Philostrate. 


8C.  I.     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM       115 

HiPPOLYTA, 

I  love  not  to  see  wretchedness  o'ercharged 
And  duty  in  his  service  perishing. 

Theseus. 
Why,  gentle  sweet,  you  shall  see  no  such  thing. 

HiPPOLYTA. 

He  says  they  can  do  nothing  in  this  kind. 

Theseus. 
The  kinder  we,  to  give  them  thanks  for  nothing. 
Our  sport  shall  be  to  take  what  they  mistake : 
And  what  poor  duty  cannot  do,  noble  respect 
Takes  it  in  might,  not  merit. 
Where  I  have  come,  great  clerks  have  purposed 
To  greet  me  with  premeditated  welcomes  ; 
Where  I  have  seen  them  shiver  and  look  pale, 
Make  periods  in  the  midst  of  sentences, 
Throttle  their  practised  accent  in  their  fears 
And  in  conclusion  dumbly  have  broke  off. 
Not  paying  me  a  welcome.     Trust  me,  sweet, 
Out  of  this  silence  yet  I  pick'd  a  welcome  ; 
And  in  the  modesty  of  fearful  duty 
I  read  as  much  as  from  the  rattling  tongue 
Of  saucy  and  audacious  eloquence. 
Love,  therefore,  and  tongue-tied  simplicity 
In  least  speak  most,  to  my  capacity. 


11^     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM     act  v. 

Re-enter  Philostrate. 

Philostrate. 
So  please  your  grace,  the  Prologue  is  address'd. 

Theseus. 
Let  him  approach.  [Flourish  of  trumpets. 

Enter  Quince y^r  the  Prologue. 

Prologue.  ^         / 

If  we  offend,  it  is  with  our  good  will. 

That  you  should  think,  we  come  not  to  offend, 
But  with  good  will.     To  show  our  simple  skill, 

That  is  the  true  beginning  of  our  end. 
Consider  then  we  come  but  in  despite. 

We  do  not  come  as  minding  to  content  you, 
Our  true  intent  is.     All  for  your  delight 

We  are  .not  here.     That  you  should  here  repent 
you, 
The  actors  are  at  hand  and  by  their  show 
You  shall  know  all  that  you  are  like  to  know. 

Theseus. 
This  fellow  doth  not  stand  upon  points. 

Lysander. 
He  hath  rid  his  prologue  like  a  rough  colt  ;  he  knows 
not   the  stop.     A   good   moral,   my   lord:  it   is  not 
enough  to  speak,  but  to  speak  true. 


sc.  I.     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM        iif 

HiPPOLYTA. 

Indeed  he  hath  played  on  his  prologue  like  a  child  on 
a  recorder ;  a  sound,  but  not  in  government. 

Theseus, 
His  speech  was  like  a  tangled  chain  ;  nothing  impaired, 
but  all  disordered.     Who  is  next  ? 

Enter  Pyramus  and  Thisbe,  Wall,  Moonshine, 
and  Lion. 

Prologue. 
Gentles,  perchance  you  wonder  at  this  show  ; 

But  wonder  on,  till  truth  make  all  things  plain. 
This  man  is  Pyramus,  if  you  would  know ; 

This  beauteous  lady  Thisby  is  certain. 
This  man,  with  lime  and  rough-cast,  doth  present 

Wall,  that  vile  Wall  which  did  these  lovers  sunder; 
And    through    Wall's    chink,    poor   souls,   they   are 
content 

To  whisper.     At  the  which  let  no  man  wonder. 
This  man,  with  lanthorn,  dog,  and  bush  of  thorn, 

Presenteth  Moonshine;  for,  if  you  will  know, 
By  moonshine  did  these  lovers  think  no  scorn 

To  meet  at  Ninus'  tomb,  there,  there  to  woo. 
This  grisly  beast,  which  Lion  hight  by  name. 
The  trusty  Thisby,  coming  first  by  night. 
Did  scare  away,  or  rather  did  affright ; 


ii8     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM    act.  v. 

And,  as  she  fled,  her  mantle  she  did  fall, 

Which  Lion  vile  with  bloody  mouth  did  stain. 
Anon  comes  Pyramus,  sweet  youth  and  tall, 

And  finds  his  trusty  Thisby's  mantle  slain  : 
Whereat,  with  blade,  with  bloody  blameful  blade, 

He  bravely  broach'd  his  boiling  bloody  breast ; 
And  Thisby,  tarrying  in  mulberry  shade. 

His  dagger  drew,  and  died.    For  all  the  rest, 
Let  Lion,  Moonshine,  Wall,  and  lovers  twain 
At  large  discourse,  while  here  they  do  remain. 

[Exeunt  Prologue,  Thisbe,  Lion,  and  Moonshine. 

Theseus. 
t  wonder  if  the  lion  be  to  speak. 

Demetrius. 
No  wonder,  my  lord  :  one  lion  may,  when  many  asses 
do. 

Wall. 
In  this  same  interlude  it  doth  befall 
That  I,  one  Snout  by  name,  present  a  wall  ; 
And  such  a  wall,  as  I  would  have  you  think, 
That  had  in  it  a  crannied  hole  or  chink, 
Through  which  the  lovers,  Pyramus  and  Thisby, 
Did  whisper  often  very  secretly. 
This  loam,  this  rough-cast  and  this  stone  doth  show 
That  I  am  that  same  wall ;  the  truth  is  so : 
And  this  the  cranny  is,  right  and  sinister, 

Thqugh  which  the  fearful  lovers  are  to  whisper. 


SCI.     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM       119 

Theseus. 
Would  you  desire  lime  and  hair  to  speak  better  ? 

Demetrius. 
It  is  the  wittiest  partition  that  ever  I  heard  discourse, 
my  lord. 


1. 


Enter  Pyramus. 


Theseus. 
Pyramus  draws  near  the  wall :  silence  ! 

Pyramus. 
O  grim-look'd  night !     O  night  with  hue  so  black ! 
O  night,  which  ever  art  when  day  is  not ! 

0  night,  O  night !  alack,  alack,  alack, 

1  fear  my  Thisby's  promise  is  forgot ! 
And  thou,  O  wall,  O  sweet,  O  lovely  wall, 

That  stand'st  between  her  father's  ground  and  mine ! 
Thou  wall,  O  wall,  O  sweet  and  lovely  wall. 

Show  me  thy  chink,  to  blink  through  with    mine 
eyne !  [Wall  holds  up  his  fingers. 

Thanks,  courteous  wall :   Jove    shield   thee  well   for 
this ! 
But  what  see  I  ?     No  Thisby  do  I  see 
O  wicked  wall,  through  whom  I  see  no  bliss ! 
Cursed  be  thy  stones  for  thus  deceiving  me  I 


120    A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     act  v. 

Theseus. 

The    wall,    methinks,    being    sensible,    should    curse 
again. 

Pyramus. 
No,  in  truth,  sir,  he  should  not.     *  Deceiving  me '  is 
Thisby's  cue :  she  is  to  enter  now,  and  I  am  to  spy 
her  through  the  wall.     You  shall  see,  it  will  fall  pat  as 
I  told  you.     Yonder  she  comes. 

Enter  Thisbk. 

Thisbe. 

0  wall,  full  often  hast  thou  heard  my  moans. 
For  parting  my  fair  Pyramus  and  me  ! 

My  cherry  lips  have  often  kiss'd  thy  stones. 
Thy  stones  with  lime  and  hair  knit  up  in  thee. 

Pyramus. 

1  see  a  voice :  now  will  I  to  the  chink, 

To  spy  an  I  can  hear  my  Thisby's  face., 
Thisby  ! 

Thisbe. 
My  love  thou  art,  my  love  I  think. 

Pyramus. 
Think  what  thou  wilt,  I  am  thy  lover's  grace  ; 
And,  like  Limander  am  I  trusty  still. 


sc.  I.     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM       121 

Thisbe. 
And  I  like  Helen,  till  the  Fates  me  kill. 

Pyramus. 
Not  Shafalus  to  Procrus  was  so  true. 

Thisbe. 
As  Shafalus  to  Procrus,  I  to  you. 

Pyramus. 
O,  kiss  me  through  the  hole  of  this  vile  wall ! 

Thisbe. 
I  kiss  the  wall's  hole,  not  your  lips  at  all. 

Pyramus. 
Wilt  thou  at  Ninny's  tomb  meet  me  straightway.-* 

Thisbe. 

'Tide  life,  'tide  death,  I  come  without  delay. 

[Exeunt  Pyramus  and  Thisbe. 

Wall. 
Thus  have  I,  Wall,  my  part  discharged  so ; 
And,  being  done,  thus  Wall  away  doth  go.  [Exit, 

Theseus. 
Now  is  the  mural  down  between  the  two  neighbours. 


122     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     act.  v. 

Demetrius. 
No  remedy,  my  lord,  when  walls  are  so  wilful  to  hear 
without  warning. 

HiPPOLYTA. 

This  is  the  silliest  stuff  that  ever  I  heard. 

Theseus. 
The  best   in   this   kind   are  but   shadows ;   and   the 
worst  are  no  worse,  if  imagination  amend  them. 

HiPPOLYTA. 

It  must  be  your  imagination  then,  and  not  theirs. 

Theseus. 
If  we  imagine  no  worse  of  them  than  they  of  them- 
selves, they  may  pass  for  excellent  men.     Here  come 
two  noble  beasts  in,  a  man  and  a  lion. 

Enter  Lion  and  Moonshine. 

Lion. 
You,  ladies,  you,  whose  gentle  hearts  do  fear 

The  smallest  monstrous  mouse  that  creeps  on  floor, 
May  now  perchance  both  quake  and  tremble  here. 

When  lion  rough  in  wildest  rage  doth  roar. 
Then  know  that  I,  one  Snug  the  joiner,  am 
A  lion-fell,  nor  else  no  lion's  dam  ; 
For,  if  I  should  as  Hon  come  in  strife 
Into  this  place,  'twere  pity  on  my  life. 


SCI.     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM       123 

Theseus. 
A  very  gentle  beast,  and  of  a  good  conscience. 

Demetrius. 
The  very  best  at  a  beast,  my  lord,  that  e'er  I  saw. 

Lysander. 
This  lion  is  a  very  fox  for  his  valour. 

Theseus. 
True  ;  and  a  goose  for  his  discretion. 

Demetrius. 
Not   so,    my  lord ;   for  his   valour   cannot   carry   his 
discretion  ;  and  the  fox  carries  the  goose. 

Theseus. 
His  discretion,    I   am  sure,  cannot  carry  his  valour ; 
for  the  goose  carries  not  the  fox.     It  is  well:  leave  it 
to  his  discretion,  and  let  us  listen  to  the  moon. 

Moon. 
This  lanthorn  doth  the  horned  moon  present ; — 

Demetrius. 
He  should  have  worn  the  horns  on  his  head. 

Theseus. 
He  is  no  crescent,  and  his  horns  are  invisible  within 
the  circumference. 


124     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHrS  DREAM     act  v. 

Moon. 
This  lanthorn  doth  the  horned  moon  present ; 
Myself  the  man  i'  the  moon  do  seem  to  be. 

Theseus. 
This  is  the  greatest  error  of  all  the  rest :    the  man 
should  be  put  into  the  lanthorn.     How  is  it  else  the 
man  i'  the  moon  ? 

Demetrius. 
He  dares  not  come  there  for  the  candle ;  for,  you  see, 
it  is  already  in  snuff. 

HiPPOLYTA. 

I  am  aweary  of  this  moon :  would  he  would  change  ! 

Theseus. 
It  appears,  by  his  small  light  of  discretion,  that  he  is 
in  the  wane ;  but  yet,  in  courtesy,  in  all  reason,  we 
must  stay  the  time. 

Lysander. 
Proceed,  Moon. 

Moon. 

All  that  I  have  to  say,  is,  to  tell  you  that  the  lanthorn 
is  the  moon  ;  I,  the  man  in  the  moon  ;  this  thorn-bush, 
my  thorn-bush  ;  and  this  dog,  my  dog. 

Demetrius. 
Why,  all  these  should  be  in  the  lanthorn  ;  for  all  these 
are  in  the  moon.     But,  silence  !  here  comes  Thisbe. 


sc.  I.     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM        125 

Enter  Thisbe. 

Thisbe, 
This  is  old  Ninny's  tomb.     Where  is  my  love  ? 

Lion. 
\Roaring\  Oh [Thisbe  runs  off. 

Demetrius. 
Well  roared,  Lion. 

Theseus. 
Well  run,  Thisbe. 

HiPPOLYTA. 

Well  shone.  Moon.     Truly,  the  moon   shines  with  a 
good  grace. 

\The  Lion  ^^«i^^  Thisbe's  mantle y  and  exit. 

Theseus. 
Well  moused,  Lion. 

Lysander. 
And  so  the  lion  vanished. 

Demetrius. 
And  then  came  Pyramus. 

Enter  Pyramus. 

Pyramus. 
Sweet  Moon,  I  thank  thee  for  thy  sunny  beams ; 
I  thank  thee,  Moon,  for  shining  now  so  bright ; 


126      A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM     act  v. 

For,  by  thy  gracious,  golden,  glittering  gleams, 
I  trust  to  take  of  truest  Thisby  sight. 

But  stay,  O  spite ! 

But  mark,  poor  knight, 
What  dreadful  dole  is  here ! 

Eyes,  do  you  see  ? 

How  can  it  be  ? 
O  dainty  duck !     O  dear ! 

Thy  mantle  good. 

What,  stain'd  with  blood ! 
Approach,  ye  Furies  fell ! 

O  Fates,  come,  come, 

Cut  thread  and  thrum  ; 
Quail,  crush,  conclude,  and  quell ! 

Theseus. 
This  passion,  and  the  death  of  a  dear  friend,  would 
go  near  to  make  a  man  look  sad. 

HiPPOLYTA. 

Beshrew  my  heart,  but  I  pity  the  man. 

Pyramus. 
O  wherefore,  Nature,  didst  thou  lions  frame  "^ 

Since  lion  vile  hath  here  deflower'd  my  dear : 
Which  is — no,  no — which  was  the  fairest  dame 

That  lived,  that  loved,  that  liked,  that  look'd  with 
cheer. 


sc.  I.     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM       127 

Come,  tears,  confound ; 

Out,  sword,  and  wound 
The  pap  of  Pyramus  ; 

Ay,  that  left  pap. 

Where  heart  doth  hop  :  [S/ads  hhnself. 
Thus  die  I,  thus,  thus,  thus. 

Now  am  I  dead. 

Now  am  I  fled  ; 
My  soul  is  in  the  sky . 

Tongue,  lose  thy  light ; 

Moon,  take  thy  flight : 

{Exit  Moonshine. 
Now  die,  die,  die,  die,  die.  {Dies. 


'Vt,iJ.'PwA^»„<^ 


128     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM    act  v. 

Demetrius. 
No  die,  but  an  ace,  for  him  ;  for  he  is  but  one. 

Lysander. 
Less  than  an  ace,  man  ;  for  he  is  degid  ;  he  is  nothing. 

Theseus. 
With  the  help  of  a  surgeon  he  might  yet  recover,  and 
prove  an  ass. 

HiPPOLYTA. 

How  chance  Moonshine  is  gone  before  Thisbe  comes 
back  and  finds  her  lover  ? 

Theseus. 
She  will  find  him  by  starlight.     Here  she  comes  ;  and 
her  passion  ends  the  play. 

Re-enter  Thisbe. 

HiPPOLYTA. 

Methinks  she  should  not  use  a  long  one  for  such  a 
Pyramus  :  I  hope  she  will  be  brief. 

Demetrius. 
A  mote  will  turn  the  balance,  which  Pyramus,  which 
Thisbe,  is  the  better  ;  he  for  a  man,  God  warrant  us ; 
she  for  a  woman,  God  bless  us. 


8C  I.     A  MIDSUMMER-rsTIGHT'S  DREAM      129 

,  Lysander. 

She  hath  spied  him  already  with  those  sweet  eyes. 

Demetrius. 
And  thus  she  means,  videlicet : — 

Thisbe. 

Asleep,  my  love  ? 

What,  dead,  my  dove  ? 
O  Pyramus,  arise! 

Speak,  speak.     Quite  dumb  ? 

Dead,  Dead  ?     A  tomb 
Must  cover  thy  sweet  eyes. 

These  lily  lips, 

This  cherry  nose, 
These  yellow  cowslip  cheeks, 

Are  gone,  are  gone  : 

Lovers,  make  moan : 
His  eyes  were  green  as  leeks. 

O  Sisters  Three, 

Come,  come  to  me. 
With  hands  as  pale  as  milk  ; 

Lay  them  in  gore, 

Since  you  have  shore 
With  shears  his  thread  of  silk. 

Tongue,  not  a  word  : 

Come,  trusty  sword  ; 
Come,  blade,  my  breast  imbrue : 

[^S^ads  herself. 


130    A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM      act  v. 

And,  farewell,  friends ; 
Thus  Thisby  ends : 
Adieu,  adieu,  adieu.  [Dies. 

Theseus. 
Moonshine  and  Lion  are  left  to  bury  the  dead. 

Demetrius. 
Ay,  and  Wall  too. 

Bottom. 
[Starting  up\  No,  I  assure  you ;  the  wall  is  down  that 
parted  their  fathers.     Will   it  please  you  to  see  the 
epilogue,  or  to  hear  a  Bergomask  dance  between  two 
of  our  company  ? 

Theseus. 
No  epilogue,  I  pray  you  ;  for  your  play  needs  no 
excuse.  Never  excuse  ;  for  when  the  players  are  all 
dead,  there  need  none  to  be  blamed.  Marry,  if  he 
that  writ  it  had  played  Pyramus  and  hanged  himself  in 
Thisbe's  garter,  ii  would  have  been  a  fine  tragedy: 
and  so  it  is,  truly  ;  and  very  notably  discharged.  But, 
come,  your  Bergomask :  let  your  epilogue  alone. 

[A  dance. 
The  iron  tongue  of  midnight  hath  told  twelve  : 
Lovers,  to  bed  ;  'tis  almost  fairy  time. 
I  fear  we  shall  out-sleep  the  coming  morn 
As  much  as  we  this  night  have  overwatch'd. 


SCI.     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM       131 

This  palpable- gross  play  hath  well  beguiled 
The  heavy  gait  of  night.     Sweet  friends,  to  bed. 
A  fortnight  hold  we  this  solemnity, 
In  nightly  revels  and  new  jollity. 


[£^xeunl. 


Enter  Puck. 


Puck. 
Now  the  hungry  lion  roars, 

And  the  wolf  behowls  the  moon  ; 
Whilst  the  heavy  ploughman  snores. 

All  with  weary  task  fordone. 
Now  the  wasted  brands  do  glow, 

Whilst  the  screech-owl,  screeching  loud. 
Puts  the  wretch  that  lies  in  woe 

In  remembrance  of  a  shroud. 
Now  it  is  the  time  of  night 

That  the  graves  all  gaping  wide. 
Every  one  lets  forth  his  sprite, 

In  the  church-way  paths  to  glide  : 
And  we  fairies,  that  do  run 

By  the  triple  Hecate's  team, 
From  the  presence  of  the  sun. 

Following  darkness  like  a  dream, 
Now  are  frolic  :  not  a  mouse 
Shall  disturb  this  hallow 'd  house  : 
I  am  sent  with  broom  before. 
To  sweep  the  dust  behind  the  door. 


132     A  MIDSUMMER.NIGHT'S  DREAM     act  v. 

Enter  Oberon  and  Titania  with  their  train. 

Oberon. 
Through  the  house  give  glimmering  light 

By  the  dead  and  drowsy  fire : 
Every  elf  and  fairy  sprite 

Hop  as  light  as  bird  from  brier ; 
And  this  ditty,  after  me, 
Sing,  and  dance  it  trippingly. 

Titania. 
First,  rehearse  your  song  by  rote, 
To  each  word  a  warbling  note  : 
Hand  in  hand,  with  fairy  grace, 
Will  we  sing,  and  bless  this  place. 

Song  and  Dance. 

Oberon. 

Now,  until  the  break  of  day. 
Through  this  house  each  fairy  stray. 
To  the  best  bride-bed  will  we, 
Which  by  us  shall  blessed  be  ; 
And  the  issue  there  create 
Ever  shall  be  fortunate. 
So  shall  all  the  couples  three 
Ever  true  in  loving  be  ; 


sc.  I.     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM       133 

And  the  blots  of  Nature's  hand 

Shall  not  in  their  issue  stand  ; 

Never  mole,  hare-lip,  nor  scar, 

Nor  mark  prodigious,  such  as  are 

Despised  in  nativity, 

Shall  upon  their  children  be. 

With  this  field-dew  consecrate, 

Every  fairy  take  his  gait ; 

And  each  several  chamber  bless, 

Through  this  palace,  with  sweet  peace  ; 

And  the  owner  of  it  blest 

Ever  shall  in  safety  rest. 

Trip  away  ;  make  no  stay  ; 

Meet  me  all  by  break  of  day. 

[Exeunt  Oberon,  Titania,  a^d  train. 


Puck. 
If  we  shadows  have  offended. 
Think  but  this,  and  all  is  mended^ 
That  you  have  but  slumber  d  here 
While  these  visions  did  appear. 
And  this  weak  and  idle  theme , 
No  more  yielding  but  a  dream. 
Gentles,  do  not  reprehend : 
If  you  pardon,  we  will  mend : 
And,  as  I  am  an  honest  Puck, 
If  we  have  unearned  luck 
Now  to  'scape  the  serpent* s  tongtce, 


134     A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM    act  v. 

We  will  make  amends  ere  long  ; 
Else  the  Puck  a  liar  call: 
Soy  good  night  unto  you  all. 
Give  m,e  your  hands,  if  we  be  friends. 
And  Robin  shall  restore  am-ends.  [Exit. 


Printed  by  Ballantyne  &•  Co.  Limited 

AT  THE  Ballantyne  Press 

Tavistock  Street 

London 


The  Illustrations  have  been  produced 

BY  THE   HENTSCHKL  COLOUR-TYPE 

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